Non Sum Qualis Eram
by Ecri
Summary: Complete! A long piece about Sam Seaborn's Campaign for Congress. Lots of Toby and Hoynes as well. I've corrected some typos and added a line or two in one scene.!
1. Default Chapter

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TITLE: Non Sum Qualis Eram (I Am Not What I Once Was)

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Pseudonym: Ecri

E-mail: ecri@comcast.net

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Category: Episode Related, 20 Hours in America through Red Haven's on Fire

Rating: PG

Summary: Sam finds himself and discovers there are things within him that he can no longer deny.

Spoilers: Potentially everything up to Red Haven's on Fire

Warnings: Some of this is slightly AU. In this universe, Will Bailey and Elsie Snuffin stay in California to run Sam's campaign. 

Sam sat in his office working on the President's next stump speech. The rest of the world had ceased to exist for him. He did not even consciously register the click clack of the keyboard as the words came to life dancing across the screen, moving at his command.

He'd spent most of his time recently doing just this. Polishing speeches, writing memos, crafting position papers, working out answers to any question the staff thought might come up in debate, and making the final plans for the debate camp Toby was planning. 

The Convention was in a few days, and it seemed they were spending a lot of time rewriting the President's speech accepting the democratic nomination. They continued to tweak it as Ritchie's people continued to try to make issues where none had existed a moment before.

He continued typing, his fingers flying across the keyboard so quickly they could almost keep up with the thoughts in his head. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he failed to notice he was no longer alone.

"Sam, we're going to need" CJ cut herself off when Sam nearly fell out of his chair. She almost dropped the memo she carried, her lips quirking in a wry smile. "Sorry, Sam, I didn't mean to startle you."

"No. It's good. I'm fine." Sam righted his chair and sat forward slightly trying to slow his pounding heart. As bad as it was being interrupted when he was so lost in his work, he thought, it was nowhere near as bad as being startled from a sound sleep. He was glad _that_ didn't happen often. "What did you want?"

She lifted the papers she'd been carrying and threw them on his desk. "The Press is asking what the President thinks about Ritchie's statement that kids in college should pay their own way by working part time and rely less on loans, their parents, and grants, disposing of the need for financial aid."

"He did not."

"He did."

Sam grabbed the memo she'd thrown on his desk and began to read. "It's time we stopped babying our children and let them learn that things don't come handed to them on silver platters. The hard work of the American people is what made this country great. And if they can't pay their own way, well, college isn't right for everyone. We should allow our kids to choose not to go to college if that's what's best for them. After all, having no formal education didn't hurt the founding fathers.'"

Sam stared at the paper, then slowly found the strength to look up at CJ. "This is a joke, isn't it? He didn't _really_ say this?"  


CJ shook her head sadly as if disappointed in him. "You have really got to stop saying that every time I bring you a memo. Have I ever said, No, Sam, you're right. I was just kidding?'"

"No."

"Then let's assume this is real, too, okay."

"He's not even considering education as a right for all citizens. If we followed this plan only the rich would go to college."

"Yep."

"And thisnone of our founding fathers graduated from college?"

"Not according to Governor Ritchie." 

"John Adams graduated from Harvard, Thomas Jefferson graduated from the College of William and Mary and James Madison graduated, in 1771, from the College of New Jersey."

"And you know the year he graduated from this apparently defunct college, why?"

"It's not defunct. Its name was changed to Princeton University."

Her eyes widened. "Oh, God, this is like the Notre Dame thing all over again! You're gonna make me learn the Princeton fight song, aren't you?"

Sam seemed to consider. "No, but I might make you learn the school's motto."

"Sam"

"In Latin."

  
"Sam!"

"I'll have something written in 15 minutes. Thirty if Toby finds out and demands to see it, so don't"

"CJ, why are you bothering my deputy when he's writing speeches. Get out!" Toby bellowed from the doorway, practically in CJ's ear, making her jump.

"I needed" She saw Sam shaking his head and quickly tried to change directions. "Nnnothing. I needed nothing, and I will now go."

Toby rolled his eyes, but still managed to see Sam trying to hide the memo CJ had given him. "What is that?"

Sam tried to shove it in a drawer, but Toby deftly snatched it from his hands.

Toby read it as CJ left the office, ignoring Sam's silent pleas for her to wait.

"Of all thehow can hehow stupid" Toby continued to sputter taking the memo with him as he went back to his own office.   


"Okay. Toby, you take that one." Sam said to his now empty office as he focused again on the speech he'd been typing.

**

CJ made a beeline for her office.

"Carol, I'm gonna need information on Princeton's" she stopped when she noticed that Carol was speaking quietly with Ron Butterfield. Her heart skipped a beat as she recalled the last time he'd been in her office. "Ron, hi. Did you need something?"

Ron managed to look uncomfortable yet professional at the same time. "Can we go into your office?"

She nodded and gestured for him to follow her. Once inside, he closed the door.

CJ moved to stand behind her desk, glancing briefly at the paperwork stacked in her inbox. It was the first time she'd ever looked at paperwork with longing. "I" she paused and cleared her throat. "I guess you're here aabout thething."

Ron nodded. "My superiors notified me. I wanted to arrange an escort."

"Escort? Is that necessary?"

"Procedure."

"Oh. And are we sure this is going to happen this time? It was postponed the last two times. I was beginning to think it would never happen."

"The judge says he will tolerate no further delay." He paused. "I know how difficult this is"

CJ raised a hand waving away his concern. "No. Not at all. I shouldmeet you here?"

"Yes. My agents and I will take you there. We will be with you the entire time. At no point will you be alone with the man. We've got him. You don't have to worry about him escaping."

CJ snorted. "Escaping? No. It's him being _set_ free that's got me worried."

"It's not gonna happen, CJ. Judge Matthews is notoriously hard on this type of crime. That's why the defense attorney keeps postponing. The hearing will happen this time, and, I can almost guarantee that Judge Matthews will find cause to hold him over for trial"

"Almost?" 

"There's also a chance he might be held over for psychiatric evaluation. Either way, he's not seeing the light of day anytime soon."

She nodded. "Okay." Her voice sounded flat and detached to her own ears. "I'll see you in a week."

Ron nodded, and looking as though he might want to say more, he left.

Carol poked her head in. "Everything okay?"

"Sure."

"Good. You have Senior Staff in 10."

"Yeah." She nodded and, once Carol had returned to work, added in a whisper, "And a court date with my stalker in 7 days."

**

Ainsley Hayes looked into Sam's office, and, seeing it empty, glanced through Toby's door. Toby sat typing furiously and punctuating the quick tapping of the keys with an occasional curse, grumble, and non-verbal sputtering.

"Not going there." She whispered under her breath. She approached Ginger's desk. "Excuse me, do you know where Sam is?"

Ginger looked up at Ainsley as if surprised he wasn't in his office. "Oh, yeahI think I saw him heading towards Josh's office."

Ainsley thanked Ginger and headed towards Josh's. Before she got there, she saw Sam heading her way. She waited for him to look up and notice her, but he looked distracted. As he walked by, she called out to him. "Hey, Sailor, going my way?"

Sam, startled, awoke to his surroundings, and seeing her, smiled. "Why is it you can say stuff like that without some intern jumping out from behind a copier to tell you how demeaning it was?"

Ainsley smiled sweetly. "Because you are a sailor. Everyone knows you've sailed. I am only asking if you're going in the same direction I am. What did you think I was asking?"

He stood still, staring for a moment, then turned as though they hadn't spoken and headed towards his office.

She laughed, and followed.

"Were you looking for me?"

"Sure was."

"Why?"

"I wanted to know when you're leaving for the convention."

"Day after tomorrow."

"Okay."

"What?'

"What?"

"When you said okay, it was like you wanted to say something else."

"Sam Seaborn, I don't know what you mean!"

"You do, cause for a blonde Republican sex-kitten, you're pretty smart."

She sighed. "My father wants to meet you."

Sam stopped walking. "What do you mean?"

She shook her head. "You know what I don't understand? For a drop-dead gorgeous Democratic boy toy, you're pretty smart, too, yet the thought of meeting my father has you stopped in the White House corridor like a deer in headlights."

He ushered her into his office not saying a word until they were inside. He looked at her for a moment, and she realized how frazzled he was. His eyes were wide, probably from the idea that her father, a Republican from Carolina, was coming. She realized only now that it was less the Republican from Carolina thing, and more the girlfriend's father thing that bothered him.

"Ainsley, I'm not at my best right now."

"You're kidding, right? You're in top form."

"But my attention ison other things. I can'texcuse meI mean" He stopped speaking for a moment, then finished helplessly, pleadingly. "Your father already doesn't like me."

"How can you say that? You've never met him."

"Yes, I have been spared that."

"You wanna try that again?" Her eyes flashed.

Sam held up his hands in a sign of surrender. "I'm not ready for the whole meet-the-parents' scenario. I've got so much going on right now with the campaign, the speeches, the conventionbesides, fathers never like me. Not Lisa's, not Mallory's"

"Leo likes you."

"Asyou knowa Senior Staffer, as a speechwriter, possibly even as a person, but as a man dating his daughter" Sam shook his head. "No. No man likes the guy his daughter dates. It's the way of the world. The sun rises in the east, birds fly south, and fathers hate their daughter's boyfriends."

  
She laughed at him. "You realize you will have to meet him someday."

"Someday is my favorite day."

"Sam."

Sam sighed, slumping in defeat. "Okaywhen, where"

Ainsley smiled and gave him a peck on the cheek. "I'll let you know the details. He'll be here later today. Maybe we can do lunch."

Sam nodded, wondering when he'd be able to take a lunch. He'd pretty much gotten used to choking something down at his desk. A feeling of dread settled like a knot in Sam's stomach. He had a feeling that, somehow, this wasn't going to be as easy as Ainsley made it sound, but, hearing Toby bellowing for him in the distance, he didn't spare it another thought.

**

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Josh's Office

Later That Day

"so if we just cut the Medicare proposal, we can allocate the funds"

"Excuse me. I don't want to interrupt" Sam stared at Josh wishing he did not have to say this again. "We aren't seriously cutting Medicare."

Josh shook his head. "No, Sam. We're not _cutting_ Medicare. We're cutting the proposed increase of funds to be allocated to Medicare. Medicare will still get an increase of 10%"

"which we know can't sustain it. I can go over the numbers again. The percentage of people who depend on Medicare"

"We don't need the numbers, Sam." Josh let his exasperation show. "Do we need to go over this again?"

"And again and again!" Sam tossed his pen down on the desk. "Josh, I'm sure we can find a way to do this. Let me work on it."

Josh knew he should say no. He knew the President already liked the proposal as it stood, but somehow, he heard himself saying just the opposite. "Sure, Sam. If you can come up with something feasible, we'll present it to the President." He cautioned Sam as the younger man grinned in triumph. "Remember, I have to meet with Leo and the President about this next Wednesday. That gives you five days, including the weekend."

"Absolutely. No problem."

It was then that Josh realized that Sam had likely been working on something already, lacking only the chance to fine tune it and present it. He was sure it would be brilliant. He was sure it would practically be emblazoned with the words "The Right Thing to Do!" across it, and he was equally sure, as legislation, it wouldn't stand a snowball's chance in a D.C. summer of making it past the President. He watched Sam leave his office wondering if a good friend would let Sam do all that work for nothing, or stop himcut off his ideals now before they bloomed and became harder to hold back. Lacking any way to make that call, he decided to do nothing, knowing he could regret that choice as well.

**

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Old Ebbet's, The Same Time

Ainsley watched as her father checked his watch again. She resisted the urge to make another excuse for Sam's lateness, and instead asked something she hoped would be more innocuous. "So, how's everything back home."

"Funny you should ask. Alan's been asking about you."

  
Inwardly, she groaned. "Alan? How's he doing."

Her father beamed. "Just made partner. He's moving up fast. There's talk of him running for City Council."

  
She nodded, feigning interest.

Her father noticed her distraction. "Ainsley, I think we've waited long enough."

"Dad, he's really busy. He's a Senior Staffer, an advisor to the President, and one of the President's chief speech writers"

"I know. I understand what all that means. The Hayes family has more than a passing familiarity with politics, but you shouldn't be making excuses for him. He didn't want to meet me in the first place, and he's using his job as a shield."

"He is not. You can't know that!"

"Ainsley, honey. He's a_democrat_."

She laughed, long and loud. "It's not a dirty word, Dad! Do you have any idea how many times I've heard that? And the she's a Republican' line didn't work on him, either."

"Ainsley"

"No, Dad. I'm with Sam. We're still working things out, but I am with Sam! We may never see eye to eye on things like gun control, minimum wage, and Social Security, but we respect each other enough to separate the politics from the person. We can get through the partisan politics, but we won't invite it into our private lives."

Mr. Hayes stood, throwing some cash down on the table to cover the cost of their meals and tip. "That, my darling, might be a more convincing argument if the word love' had been mentioned even once." He turned and walked towards the door.

Ainsley stared into her drink for awhile trying to figure out what had happened, and how she would tell Sam.

**

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The White House

Office of the Chief of Staff

Leo McGarry stared at his deputy. "You didn't."

"He really needs to do this, Leo."

"It's a waste of his time, not to mention the President's time!"

"I already told him he could do it."

"For the love ofthis isn't high school! We don't get to spend extra time on our pet projects!"

"Come on, Leo. He really needs to do this."

Leo didn't like it, but he knew Josh had a point. Begrudgingly, he agreed. "Okay. But he's gotta keep it brief and focused."

Josh nodded.

"Anything else?" 

"I'm fine, Leo. I'm gonna get back to work."

"Will wonders never cease?"

**

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The Next Day

Deputy Communications Director's Office

Sam typed furiously looking only briefly at his Medicare notes. He knew this stuff inside out and backwards. He finished his paragraph, then stopped. He needed to gather his thoughts for this next section. He was treading carefully, because, despite what Josh and Leo seemed to think, he did know when to tone things down. He knew this couldn't be exactly what he wanted it to be and still be accepted by both parties. 

As he sat deep in thought, his phone rang. He snatched the receiver. "Sam Seaborn." He listened for a moment. "Yeah, thanks for returning my call." He frowned as he heard the reply. "When?" He listened for another moment. "Who's the defense attorney?" Sam scribbled something on a scrap of paper. "The judge?" He scribbled again. "That's good. Okay, thanks." 

He hung up, sitting with his hand on the receiver for a moment as he digested the news. His mind was already working on several different tracks. He took up the scrap of paper he'd been using and wrote for several minutes. Rising, he took a step towards the door. "Ginger?" He handed the paper to the woman. "I need someone to get this stuff from Legal. If we don't have it internally, send an intern to the library. I need it right away."

Ginger looked at the list. Frowning, she looked back at Sam. "What's this got to do with Medicare?"

"Absolutely nothing. Right away, okay?" He slipped back into his office, as she cornered the nearest intern.

**

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Office of the Associate White House Counsel

Several Hours Later

Ainsley reread the brief, wondering if a first year law student had written it. She was getting a headache and her stomach was decidedly empty. The knock on her door wasn't unexpected, but she'd hoped for more time. "Come in." She shuffled some papers, and still looking through them, addressed the newcomer without looking up. "I'm almost through, I just have the last brief to do, but that will be ready in"

"I'm sure that's really interesting, but I come bearing gifts."

She looked up to see Sam standing in the doorway, a paper sack in his hand. She smiled at him. "I thought you were my boss."

"People often mistake me for Oliver Babish."

"What's in the bag?"

"I'm sorry about lunch"

"I know. You said that. What's in the bag?"

"A peace offering." He put the bag on her desk and reached into it.  
  
"That's totally unnecessary. You didn't have tois that Kung Pao Chicken?" She asked as the familiar aroma assailed her.

He nodded. "And" He reached into the sack, pulling out an entire Lindy's New York Style Cheesecake.

"Cheesecake!"  


"Chocolate Cheesecake. Am I forgiven?"

"You were forgiven before."

"So this can carry over to the next time?"  


"The next time you stand up me and my father?"

"Let's eat, shall we?"

  
She laughed and let him get away with the remark. She hadn't really been mad at him, and he knew that, but it was a nice gesture. She had a feeling he was more than a little pleased he'd managed to avoid meeting her father. If only he knew how persistent her father could be.

**

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The White House, The Next Morning 

Donna hurried down the corridor, trying desperately not to look like she was hurrying. When she was asked for the third time where the fire was, she took the hint and slowed to a sort of a race walk. 

Finally, reaching Sam's office, she knocked on the doorframe. "Sam?"

"Donna? Did you need something?"

"Josh said to let you know that the Medicare meeting has been moved up to Tuesday at 4:30."

Sam sighed. "Thanks. Tell him I saidthanks."

She laughed.

"What?"

"Nothing, really. You just don't look like you're all that grateful for the news."  


He smiled. "No. I'm not. It's okay. I'll handle it."

"If you need a hand, let me know." She'd already taken several steps away from his office when she heard him call her back. Poking her head in the doorway, she answered him. "You need me?"

"Donna, have you talked to Carol?"

"About something in particular or do you just wonder if the assistants socialize?"

"Forget it."

"No, I won't and yes, I have."

Sam thought about her answer for a moment. "No, you won't forget it, and yes you have talked to Carol?"

She smiled. "You do this better than Josh."

Sam chose to ignore that comment. "Do you and Carol talk about CJ?"  


She laughed. "What is this? Trying to figure out if we talk about our bosses? Did Josh put you up to this?"

"No. Look, forget it."

Something clicked in Donna's head then, and she realized what he was asking, or, rather, what he was trying not to ask. "This is about the court thing, isn't it?"

Sam didn't acknowledge it, but the look on his face confirmed her guess.

"She's a little reluctant to go."

"Wouldn't you be?" Sam was sorry he'd asked the question. The moment he'd said it, he'd seen Donna shudder as if putting herself in CJ's shoes. "Donna?" Sam whispered, his tone inquiring as to her frame of mind.

She smiled at his concern, but waved it away at the same time. "Yeah. I guess I would be."  


Sam nodded, not entirely sure he believed her. "Really, thank Joshand on your way out, ask Bonnie to clear my afternoon. I have a lot to do and not a lot of time for any of it."

"So what else is new?" Donna laughed and left Sam's office. He watched her go wondering if her laughter had always so closely resembled music. 

**

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That Weekend

Democratic National Convention

The room, devoid of the crowds that it would hold later, still seemed oddly charged with its own anticipatory energy. President Josiah Bartlet stood by the podium looking out at the empty seats, imagining the room filled to capacity. 

He saw the Secret Service agents discreetly standing around the room.

He noticed that CJ, clipboard in hand, was consulting with Leo, and he scanned the area for the rest of the staff.

He caught a glimpse of Josh and Donna and wondered if they were working or just chatting. Sometimes he couldn't tell even if he could hear what they were saying.

Toby was seated in one of the chairs down front and appeared to be in a heated debate with Sam. Whatever it was about, he could see they were both getting frustrated. He thought about breaking it up, but he was still savoring this. The quiet. The calm before the storm. It was at times like these that the line between his current career and his previous infatuation with the priesthood blurred. He could feel the same pervasive reverence that he felt when he attended Mass on those rare occasions when he was able to immerse himself in the word of God. Even when he went to mass these days, all too often he found himself concentrating on myriad affairs of state that would, inevitably, roll around in his head. Mass would end, and he would feel as if he'd missed it, which he supposed he had.

He concentrated on that feeling now. Peaceful, yet with an underlying confident expectation. He put all of his attention, his focus, on it. This would be a big night. He knew, of course, that he was getting the Democratic nomination. The evening was unlikely to hold any surprises, but this would be his moment to bring his campaign to the forefront. This night he officially embarked on his journey to maintain his role as President. He recalled fondly the night he'd read Sam's eloquent answer to the question that had so plagued CJ. _Why do you want to be President?_ Somehow, Sam had completely captured a truth Bartlet himself had not consciously recognized. Bartlet smiled, and glanced over at Sam, who, though still sitting with Toby, was busily typing away on his laptop while Toby read over his shoulder. Sam was destined for great things. Jed thought it likely that the young man hadn't fully realized that. If he had, chances were he'd have moved on by now. 

**

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Hours Later

CJ Cregg walked across the stage towards the podium reveling in the growing applause. She couldn't decide if this were better than the first time, so she decided to enjoy it and sort it out later.

She gestured for quiet, which somehow had the opposite affect. She smiled, indulging the audience, and herself, in a few moments of unadulterated joy, then she began speaking, knowing they would instinctively quiet down to hear her.

"I guess you know why I'm out here," she stated, smiling broadly while the room erupted once more. She took a step back, gesturing for them to go ahead and have their fun.

**

Sam Seaborn watched from the wings as CJ demonstrated once again how good she was at her job. A gesture, a word, a change in inflection; it was like watching a figure skaterpart athlete, part artistboth inspiring and inspired. He shook his head in admiration of her grace and poise.

"She's good, isn't she?"

Sam, startled, glanced to his right to find President Bartlet standing beside him also admiring CJ.

Sam followed his gaze. "Yes, sir, that she is."

Bartlet smiled at Sam. "She deserves to keep her job for a little while longer." He paused. "You all do."

"Thank you, sir."

For a moment, Bartlet looked as though he would say more, but CJ had finally begun to introduce him. The President smiled at Sam, and stepped out onto the stage to the sound of thunderous applause.

**

Vice President John Hoynes watched the President speak while he contemplated plans for his own Presidential campaign. He knew some might think it early, but, assuming he and Jed won another four years, his own campaign would be beginning in, at the most, two years. He had a lot of numbers to crunch and polls to tabulate if he wanted to be sure of winning the Oval Office.

At one time, he'd thought he'd be approaching a second term of his own by now, but the Bartlet for America Campaign had derailed his carefully laid plans. He wasn't sure what had cost him the election, but he was going to find out. 

He'd done some research already, and he'd spent precious little time worrying about what might have been. He was Vice President now. He hoped it strengthened his bid for the presidency.

The President's speech was winding down, and he motioned to the wings for Hoynes to join him. John walked out onto the stage to the roar of unbridled applause. He and the President stood, arms raised in victory for several moments, before their wives joined them on stage. The flash of the cameras and the calls of the reporters turned the moment into a flood of light and sound.

**

Sam pulled his tie off and tossed it on the bed. It had been a good night. They'd known, of course, that the President was going to get the nomination, but the wheeling and dealing had still been hectic. The President's popularity had recently increased, and many of the other democrats running for office were hoping for help with their campaigns. They'd made a fair amount of deals and agreements throughout the evening, and Sam was glad it was over. 

A blinking red light on the hotel telephone caught his eye. Groaning at the thought that, even though it was nearly dawn, he couldn't go to sleep, he reached for the phone and listened to the message. He checked his watch as he hung up. The message had been short and demanding. He sighed, stood, wishing he could just crawl into bed and pull the blankets up over his head. Instead, he laid out a change of clothes and headed for the shower.

**

Richard Hayes checked his watch again. He expected Sam Seaborn to be late. He'd tried to meet the man his daughter claimed was so important to her on several occasions, but each time, he'd canceled. At the last attempt, lunch with Ainsley just two days ago, he hadn't bothered to show up. Ainsley insisted it was unfair of him to insist on meeting so close to the Democratic Convention, but he didn't see much point in waiting.

He was a man used to getting what he wanted, and he wanted to meet this man, this democrat, who seemed to have some sort of hold over his daughter. Ainsley was his youngest child, and his only daughter. The thought of her working for a democratic White House had nauseated him. The idea of her dating a democrat had left him speechless. He had to know if this was a serious relationship.

He glanced at his watch again, just as a man in a dark suit approached his table.

"Mr. Hayes, I'm Sam Seaborn"

Richard stood, taking Sam's proffered hand. "Mr. Seaborn. I'm glad you could make it."

Sam wasn't positive, but he thought it probable that Ainsley's father had only just been able to prevent himself from adding the word finally' to his greeting. "I'm glad you suggested it."

"Mr. Seaborn"

  
"Sam."

A waiter approached offering coffee, which Sam gratefully accepted. He was feeling a bit off from lack of sleep, and caffeine sounded like a good idea.

Richard Hayes shook his head. "Mr. Seaborn, my daughter seems to have feelings for you. She says you have them for her. Is that true?"

"Yes, sir." Sam couldn't tell if his answer pleased the man or not. "Ainsley and I"

"I don't like your President."

"With respect, sir, he's your president, too, and he has nothing to do with my relationship with your daughter. Ainsley and I"

"He has everything to do with it. This has branded her. Republicans look at her as though she might be a traitor."

"Pardon me, Mr. Hayes, but Ainsley dating me isn't exactly consorting with the enemy'. She and I disagree on almost everything"

"And you don't think that's an unhealthy foundation for a relationship?"

"No, sir, I do not. Disagreement is good. When we argue politics or policy, we have to think about our arguments. We have to defend our positions to someone who believes wholeheartedly the exact opposite of what we believe. We're forced to think, and to form coherent, persuasive arguments. It helps us see the other side."

Mr. Hayed nodded, deep in thought. "I'll admit I hadn't thought of that, young man. I've been too against this from the beginning. The problem is, Ainsley has given up a promising career in politics by taking a job with this White House."

Sam considered the man's words, but whether from an inherent stupidity on his own part, or from the lack of sleep, he couldn't quite follow how accepting a job at the White House could be a bad move for someone looking for a career in politics. He shook his head to clear it. "I don't think she's given it up, sir. I think she's just taken a different road than you expected."

Mr., Hayes leaned forward. "Maybe, but it's a road I didn't want her to take."

"We can't always get our children to do what we want them to do."

"We?" Mr. Hayes sat back in his chair, a look of disbelief on his face. "We? Do you have children, Mr. Seaborn?"

"No, sir, I was just"

"Ainsley should have married by now. She should be a partner at a law firm, or a senior staff member for a prominent, _Republican _politician. So far, I'm not impressed with what she chose to pursue over that. Not impressed at all."

"Mr. Hayes, forgive me, but it seems you had your mind made up before you met me that you would be against this. Why bother to meet with me at all if you've already cast me in the roll of the villain who stole your daughter away from the life she should have led. Ainsley and I are"

"Do you love my daughter?"

"What?" Sam hadn't expected that question.

"Do you love Ainsley, Mr. Seaborn? I've heard her talk about you. I've heard her tell me what a wonderful man you are. I've heard her tell me I should be more open-minded about your relationship. I've never heard her say she loves you. So I have to ask you, do you love my daughter."

Sam opened his mouth to speak, closed it, then sighed. "Mr. Hayes, Ainsley and I are attracted to each other. I don't think it odd that we haven't committed"

"And I do think it odd. She's not herself when she's with you! If she were, she'd never have taken a job with your White House! She would have stuck to her own kind."

"Her own _kind_?" Sam stared in silence for a moment. It finally occurred to him that there was no winning in this situation. He pushed back his chair and stood. "Mr. Hayes, your daughter and I have only just started dating. We don't know where the relationship is going, but we intend to find out. If you have a problem with that, or if you think she's better off with her own kind' then I doubt there's much I can say to change that. I'll be seeing your daughter until she tells me otherwise." He left some cash to pay for his coffee, and, biting his lip, managed to keep any further comments to himself. As he walked back to his room, he wondered how he was going to explain all of this to Ainsley.

To Be Continued


	2. Part 2

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Non Sum Qualis Eram Part 2

See part one for disclaimers/spoilers, etc.

NOTE: This is short, but I thought you might all like an update.

**

****

Later that Day

"And that's really all I have." CJ announced, as she checked her clipboard. 

"CJ?"

"No questions, guys. I'm going to my seat. I'll be back after takeoff." She turned and headed out of the press area of Air Force One glad no one had pressed her for more. 

She was actually sorry to be going home. With the convention over, there was little else she could think about other than the pending court appearance of her stalker. Her stalker. She hated that she even thought of him in that way. It was like he was exclusive to her. He belonged to her, and, in an odd way, she belonged to him. She shuddered, sinking back into her seat, and resting her head in her hand.

CJ recalled talking to Simon about this once, and he had been sympathetic. That had surprised her in a way–almost as much as she had surprised herself by asking him to let her shoot his gun. It wasn't that she had thought he'd be hard hearted about it, or insensitive to her feelings. It had simply been that she had expected, at most, a simple, that's understandable,' or a that's a common feeling for people in your situation.' Instead, he'd shut the door to her office, sat down across from her, and listened to every word she had to say. Then, he'd actually tried to help.

__

Settling in the chair in front of her desk, Simon looked her in the eye in that unnerving, straightforward way he had. "This guy, whoever he is, he's getting off on making you jumpy. He wants you to feel this way. The trick is not to let him."

  
CJ snorted.

Smiling, Simon nodded. "I know it's easier said than done, but you have something he didn't count on."

"What's that?"

"You have me to look out for you."

Their eyes locked. Her heart skipped a beat as she considered what he'd said. 

"That is, you have me andyou knowthe rest of the detail." He cleared his throat. "Iwon't let anything happen to you."

CJ smiled, feeling some tension drain away, though why she felt better, she couldn't really say. "I appreciate that."

CJ stared out the small window of Air Force One, seeing nothing but reflections of the plane's interior in the black night sky beyond. She considered letting Carol handle the press for the rest of the trip, but brooding wasn't her favorite pastime. After takeoff, she headed back to see if there were any more questions.

**

Leo shut the door to the President's Air Force One office behind him as he went off in search of Sam and Toby. He expected they would be busy working on the next set of speeches.

Sure enough, he found the pair in the conference room working on something. They both looked at him expectantly when he entered. "Sam, Toby, good work on the acceptance speech. The President really liked it." He smiled. "He said he made sure there was pie aboard before we took off. His way of thanking you."

Toby sighed. "Leo, the thing is I"

"We're glad he liked it, Leo. We both put in a lot of hours on it."

Leo nodded, noting that something strange seemed to pass between the two, and that, from the look on Toby's face, the older man was losing for once. He stepped back into the corridor thinking it would do both of them good if Sam won a few arguments now and then. He chuckled softly as he went back to work.

"Sam" Toby's voice was somewhere between hostile and defeated. "You shouldn't keep doing this. You can't lie to the Chief of Staff."

"I didn't lie to him. I told him we both put in a lot of hours on the speech. We both did. We just didn't use very much of what you wrote."

Toby looked up at the younger man in wonder. "That's the most lawyerly evasion of the truth I've ever heard from you."

"There's no need to be insulting. I'm only trying to help."

"Sam, this isn't something you can help me with. I've lost it."

"It's just a slump."

"I've been in this slump since before the State of the Union!" Toby rose from his chair and began to pace the length of the room. I don't even know what the problem is. I can't even tell why this is happening."

"It's just a slump." Sam insisted. "I don't believe your talent has dried up, and I don't think you believe it, either. You've had slumps before."

"Not for this long, Sam. I can't put together a good speech. I'm passable on short statements, but the actual speeches" He shook his head. "There's nothing there."

"For now. It's just for now. So what if this is the longest slump you've ever had? You do still have the talent. You can still do the job. Your short statements and position papers are still good."

"They're not great."

"Toby, you always told me you can't hit a homerun every time. Sometimes it's the bunt that wins the game."

"This isn't a gamethis is speechwriting for the President of the United States!"

"You'll get your swing back."

"And if I don't?"

Sam was a little disturbed. Toby's attitude was one he never would have conceived the Communications Director would adopt. Toby was the best speechwriter on the planet, and the fact that he really thought he couldn't write another word was enough to make Sam want to hang up his own pen. He forced a smile on his face that didn't reach his soul. "If you don't, no one else ever needs to know."

Toby shook his head. "No."

"What?"

"No way are you going to cover my ass for the rest of your career! If the President wins reelection, and I don't get it back before the inauguration, I'm going to retire and recommend you for my job."

Sam took a step back as if equally surprised, pleased, and frightened by that thought. He shook it off, knowing, believing unconditionally, that this would never happen. "It's just a slump."

Toby nodded, and sat again looking over their notes for the President's next speech. "Let's get back to work on this."

Sam wanted to say something to remind Toby how good he was. He had to make the man understand that he was talented, and that even long slumps eventually broke. Toby had taught him almost everything he knew about speechwriting. Toby had an innate ability to make a bad speech good and a good speech great. How could he remind the man that as good as Sam was himself, Toby was better? He was

"Whatever you sayBatman." Sam smiled as he said it, and couldn't have been more surprised than when Toby smiled back.

**

****

Vice President's Office

The Next Day

John Hoynes stared at his new Press Secretary. He finally had to ask the question. "What are you talking about, Mike?"

Michael Beller knew Hoynes wouldn't like this, but he had to know up front what they had to work with. "Are we sure that Bartlet will back you."

"Are we sure he'll back me? Of course he'll back me. I'm his Vice President!"

"I was under the impression that the two of you don't get along."

Hoynes turned to his Chief of Staff with a pleading look in his eye.

"Mike, the President and the Vice President have a working relationship. They aren't best friends, but they're not enemies either." Nicholas Lacey chose his words a little too carefully for the Vice President's taste.

  
"Oh, for the love oflisten up everyone. The President is firmly on my side. He wants me to be President. He wants me as his Vice President. Can we please move on to something meaningful." He turned towards his Chief of Staff again. "Nick, have you gotten any results on the polls?"

Nick nodded, passing a stack of memos around the table. "The number one concern so far is that the public perceives you as corporate. You're viewed as a rich guy out of touch with the problems of most people."

Hoynes considered that. It wasn't a surprising perception. He was from Texas and had ties to oil companies. That in itself was enough for some people to see him as rich and out of touch. "Okay. What else?"

Nick looked at Mike. 

Hoynes smiled. "I'm over here, Nick. Don't pull your punches. Tell me."

Nick continued, but he wasn't happy. Still, he looked Hoynes directly in the eye. That was why he was Chief of Staff. "You are largely perceived as an unknown quantity. People are no longer sure where you stand. This might be largely because of your time with President Bartlet. He's had you publicly defending his positions, and frankly, the voters aren't sure what you believe. That's gonna be our biggest priority; getting your positions out there."

"Then we're going to have to sit down and define my position on the biggest issues."

"That's education, defense, Medicare, the environment, gun control, crime, campaign finance reform." Mike scribbled on a legal pad as he spoke.

  
"Mike, we know what the issues are."

"Oh. Of course."

"So, we need to get the people to understand who I am. Sounds like we need to give an interview."

"Way ahead of you, boss." Nick chuckled as he passed a memo to Hoynes. "I've set up an interview for a magazine article. Cover story. It's going to be printed just before the election. We'll need you to meet with the reporter soon."

Hoynes skimmed the pertinent details from the page Nick had handed him. "Time Magazine. Cover?"

Nick nodded. 

"Okay," Hoynes glanced around the room. "Well, that looks like a good start. By the time the President is making his Inaugural address, I want the people of this country to have as strong an idea of who I am as they do of him."

Mike nodded emphatically. "I'm sure we can do that, sir."

Hoynes watched them leave his office. He had more work to do. He might have polling numbers, but there were still a few opinions he needed.

**

****

The Next Day

White House

Office of the Press Secretary

"Thanks, Ron. I'll wait for you in my office. See you in 20 minutes." CJ hung up the phone. She knew it had been pointless to hope the proceedings would be cancelled. She hadn't even realized that she was hoping just that until Ron had confirmed the time and reminded her that he would be accompanying her to the courthouse.

CJ was as scared now at the thought of facing herthe stalker as she had been when Ron Butterfield had first showed her the photographs that had instigated her protection.

All through the aftermath of the New York trip, she'd avoided seeing any pictures of the man. She'd managed to deflect the questions of the press with a few words about Secret Service involvement and procedures. She'd managed to get through Simon's funeral, and had somehow gotten Charlie involved with Anthony, Simon's Little Brother.

All the while, she'd waited for the time when she could put it all behind her. She thought at first that it would be after the funeral. Then she thought she could call it over when she found Anthony another Big Brother. After that, she had managed to forget for awhile, but it was more of a suppression of the facts and feelings than an actual moving past them.

Notification of the first court date had been unwelcome at first, but soon she'd decided that it was just what she needed to truly put the entire incident behind her. When it had been postponed, she hadn't been sure what she felt. Not disappointment exactly, but not a reprieve, either. The second date had been harder, since the postponement came not weeks before the date, but hours.

This time, she'd convinced herself that it would be caught up in red tape and legal knots until well after President' Bartlet's second term had ended. Ron's appearance with the news had shocked her. Somehow this all felt so much more real to her than the last time. She laughed a humorless laugh as that thought reminded her of another conversation with Simon.

__

"Can you please not fight me on this? I need to know, so you need to tell me. I'm here to protect you!"

"I know why you're here! I couldn't forget it if I tried!"

"Is that what this is? You're trying to forget why I'm here?" His frustration seeped into his voice and his mannerisms as he ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I'd like to be able to tell you that I need to know your schedule and if you're going to lunch or shopping with your niece for a junior prom dress without having to defend the procedures!"

She nodded. "I understand. It won't happen again."

"Can I hold you to that?"

  
She nodded, but he could tell her heart wasn't in it. He had seen her belligerent, furious, nonchalant, playful, focused, calm, frenzied, jetlagged, and flirtatious. This was the first time he'd seen her truly scared. "What is it?" He asked, not sure she'd tell him.

It was his turn to be surprised when he got honesty instead of sass. "It's too real."

"Excuse me?"

"Having you here, that's okay, because I can make myself believe it's part of the job. When I have to have you come to a dress shopif it invades what I laughingly call my life as opposed to my workit's too reallike if I know too much about the stalker, his name or what he looks likethen it's real."

"I promise not to make you learn his name when we catch him."

"Can I hold you to that?"

"Sure, but you can't hold my superiors to that."

Naturally, his superiors had told her his name. She knew more about him than she'd ever thought she would. Name, height, weight, eye color, hair color, education, political affiliationthanks to CNN, she'd actually seen 5 minutes of a report about the man before she'd been able to put aside the morbid fascination and change the channel.

The thought of facing him in that court, even with Ron Butterfield standing nearby, made her want to screamor hit something. Idly, she wondered where Josh was.

"It's not going to be that bad, CJ."

Startled that someone had managed to walk into her office without her noticing, she turned towards the door.

"Sam?" She noticed that Sam looked impeccable today, which he usually did, but his suit seemed new, the tie bright and crisp, and the way he carried himself was the way he did when he was called upon to be, as Donna had once described it to her, lawyerly.

Sam smiled reassuringly. "It won't be that bad, CJ. I spoke to Ron"

"Wait a minute." She frowned. "You spoke to Ron? Ron Butterfield?"

"Yeah. The thing is, I think when we go"

"When wewhere are we going?"

"Your court date" he couldn't say stalker, so he changed gears. "The guy. The one" He looked at her and his nervousness over the subject faded when he realized she was still scared. "CJ, this guy is _nothing_. He's not worth yoursaliva. I won't say there's nothing to be scared of. The guy tormented you. He caused a great deal of upheaval in your life. The thing is" He took her hand and looked her in the eye. "You don't have to face him on your own." 

When she didn't reply, he let go of her hand and pulled a folder from his briefcase, hiding behind the things he knew best, and hoping she wasn't going to send him away. She could see the folder was labeled simply CJ. "I've taken the liberty of looking into a few things. This isn't going to be as bad as you think. His lawyer is trying to get him off by presenting a case of insanity, but the prosecutor is good. His conviction rate is impressive, and Judge Matthews has a record of being particularly tough on these kinds of cases"

As he spoke, CJ felt a smile tugging at her lips. "Spanky?"

Sam pushed his glasses back from where they'd slid on his nose. "Yes?"

"You looked into thisthe records, the conviction ratesfor me?"

"Partially."

She narrowed her eyes, still staring at him, expecting more of an explanation.

He didn't disappoint her. "I did it for me, too." He adjusted his glasses again self-consciously. "CJ, you asked us not to talk about it while it was going on, truthfully, I don't think we really could have anyway. The thing is that, though we didn't talk about it, I, at least, _thought_ about it. You're important to us, and you shouldn't have to face this on your own. There are two things you need. A lawyer who understands what's being said and can let you know how things are going, anda friend. I hope I can be the first for you. I already am the second."

Her smile broadened as she stared in wonder at this man. He was one of the busiest men in the country, and he hadn't had a day off in more than two weeks. She'd heard he was apparently having some kind of a personal problem with his girlfriend. She knew from Donna that he'd been working on something to do with the President's Medicare proposal. Given all of that and whatever things she knew nothing about, he had made the time to research thewho had been invading her thoughts as effectively as he had invaded her life.

"Thanks, Sam."

"You're welcome."

"He's not worth my saliva?"

"He really isn't."

"Whatever you say, Spanky."

"I thought that had gone away."

She actually snorted before replying. "Not in your lifetime."

**

To Be Continued


	3. Part 3

Non Sum Qualis Eram part 3

By Ecri

See Part One for Disclaimer and Spoilers.

**

****

Later That Day

The White House

Josh looked into Sam's office. Donna had said CJ was with Sam, so where were they? Frustrated, he was about to walk back to his office and ask Donna, when she came running up behind him.

"You know, when you ask a question, it might be a good idea to stick around long enough to hear the _entire_ answer."

"What?"

"You asked where CJ was, while I was on the phone, I might add, and when I paused in my conversation long enough to say that she was with Sam, you dashed off. I had to wrap up the call and chase you down!"

"So where's CJ?"

"With Sam"

Josh looked pointedly at the empty office.

Donna continued without pausing. "at court. CJ's stalker is being arraigned today, and Sam wanted to be with her toI don't knowwatch her back or something."

"Watch her back?"

"Sam's a lawyer, Josh."

Josh's tone launched into what she termed his high and whiny voice. "I know he's a lawyer, Donna. CJ wouldn't need a"

Donna snorted.

"What was that?"

"What?" Donna, her message delivered, started back towards her desk.

"Thatsnort!"

"Joshua," Donna sighed with the air of a woman tired of repeating herself. "Do you not pay attention? CJ's stalker

"Hang on. CJ's stalker is appearing in court today?"

Donna glanced heavenward in thanks. "And it finally sinks in! She's known about it for almost a week. Third time's the charm, right?"

"Third time?"

"Sure, the arraignment got postponed twice. She finally made it as far as the courtroom today."

Josh didn't know what to say. He knew he should say something, but his mind was a blank. He hadn't known about the court thing. CJ hadn't told him. Had she told Sam, or had he just found out? Did Leo know? Did Toby? "I'll be in my office." He didn't wait for Donna to respond. He just went in and shut the door.

Sam had questioned his friendship, and here was proof that he wasn't just a bad friend to Sam. He was a bad friend to everyone. 

"You idiot." He said it out loud because he felt himself slipping into a self-indulgent pout. He wasn't going to do that. He was going to fix this. He was going to make sure he became the kind of friend Sam wanted. He was going to be a better friend to CJ. He was going to be the kind of friend he used to be.

**

  
**The Oval Office**

Jed Bartlet handed the clipboard and signed letters back to Charlie. "What's next?"

"That would be me." Leo McGarry's voice came from the doorway between the two offices of the most powerful men in the United States.

"Were you listening at the keyhole, or is my office bugged?" Bartlet scowled.

"Yes, and yes, sir." 

When Leo didn't say anymore, Jed nodded at Charlie. "Thanks, Charlie. Apparently, I'll be a little busy with Leo here for awhile."

Leo waited until the door clicked shut before addressing his friend. "Qumar's official investigation is over."

Jed's eyes narrowed. "What did they find?"

"Nothing. Their report indicated that the place was lost at sea, probably due to pilot error."

"What aren't you telling me?"

"Fitz says they know."

Jed Bartlet's eyes widened. "You just said their report" 

Leo nodded. "Officially, they're listing it as an accident. Unofficiallythey know."

"For the love ofHow could they just _know_?"

"What they know and what they can prove are two different things."

"Don't give me that crap! Answer the question: how can they know?

"The same way we know what Shareef did. We couldn't prove that, either." Leo shrugged. "The same way we know that they know."

"If their investigation turned up nothing"

"There was no hard evidence to turn up. We destroyed everything."

"So you're saying what? There are spies involved here? They have agents high enough in my administration that they could be privy to"

"Fitz is working on it."

"I hope so!" Bartlet sat heavily at his desk. "So, what happens now? This doesn't just go away."

"Probably not, no, sir." Leo looked glum

"I thought not. Okay, Leo, if that's it..."

Leo nodded. "Thank you, Mr. President."

Jed sat staring at his desk, then, once again, he offered a silent prayer for forgiveness and for the strength to carry on. Raising his head and his voice, he called out to his aide. "CharlieWhat's next?"

**

****

At That Same Time

As CJ walked towards the courtroom, she wondered why she was getting more and more nervous. Not even nervous really, but scared. Why should she be scared? The stalker was in custody. It wasn't like he was armed and would open fire or start throwing knives at her as soon as she walked in the door. She wasn't a woman who was easily scaredwell, maybe snakes could make her nervous, but in general, she was strong, capable, and able to take care of herself. She could do her job. The thought brought other things to the surface. 

__

"Why won't you let me do my job?" Simon stared at her, his brow furrowed in both anger and consternation. 

"I'm not stopping you!" CJ glared at him as if he had broken his word by speaking. 

"You sure make it difficult! No one's saying you're not strong enough to look after yourself, but, for God's sake, this is a stalker! It's my job to protect you! It's what I do! It's what I want to do."

She opened her mouth to throw a retort at him, but paused as his words penetrated her defenses. "Yeah."

He blinked in both in surprise by her quiet agreement, and in confusion about what it was to which she had agreed. "Yeahwhat?"

"Yeah, I do make it difficult. I grew up with brothers. I am a woman doing what is traditionally a man's job. I am" She made a vague gesture towards the ceiling. "tall." She looked down, suddenly insecure. "I'm accustomed to looking after myself. No one to lean on, no one to take care of me, no one to" She caught him off guard when she looked him square in the eye. "This makes me feel weak...helplessviolated. Out of control. I don't like it."

He nodded, and by the look in his eye, she believed he understood her. She could see he knew what she felt, and that he didn't think less of her for admitting it.

"CJ"

  
She smiled. "I thought it was Ms. Cregg, or Ma'am."

"I'm talking to you now as a person, but if you'd rather I could call you ma'am."

"Go on."

"Ma'am"

  
She smiled, smacking him playfully on the arm. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

He smiled back, a dazzling smile that almost knocked her over. He looked down at her, and she again felt so much more feminine standing next to a man over whom she did not tower.

"CJ, I'm here to protect you. I'm not here to make you feel weak and helpless." His laughter painted a puzzled look upon her face. "I don't think," he continued, "anyone can_ make _you_ feel weak and helpless! But, I am here to protect you, and if the thing I protect you from makes you feel a little afraid, that's okay. No one can be stalked and not be afraid."_

She nodded. "You're here to protect me."

"It's what I do."

"It's what you want_ to do?"_

The smile was back, but this time it touched his eyes, making CJ think she could see through them to his very soul. "I get a lot of pleasure from doing my job well."

CJ hadn't realized she'd stopped walking towards the courtroom until she felt a hand on her elbow, and heard Sam's voice, soft and gentle, in her ear. She shook herself, almost blushing, embarrassed by what she thought others would see as emotional.

"CJ," Sam whispered, his voice pitched low so only she could hear, and laced with concern. "It's okay. You're not alone."

She offered him a brave smile. "Thanks."

He offered her his arm, and she took it, hating herself for pretending, just for a moment, that he was Simon.

Together, they walked into the courtroom, the Secret Service agents surrounding them.

**

****

The White House

Office of the Communications Director

Toby watched CNN, wishing, not for the first time, that the media wouldn't cover court appearances. Sam had mentioned to him where he would be, and he had wholeheartedly agreed that CJ shouldn't face this alone. He wished she'd asked him to go along, but then, the entire staff couldn't take the day off for this.

He watched as the talking head, muted so he wouldn't have to hear the endless chatter, gestured to the building behind him. The image on the screen shifted to one of the stalker being arrested. The now-familiar footage showed the man, hands cuffed behind him, head down and covered by a denim jacket, as he was led to a car to be transported to the prison where he'd been held until the court appearance.

When the photo of Special Agent Simon Donovan appeared above the left shoulder of the returned anchorman, Toby flipped off the set. He wondered how CJ was doing, but knew he couldn't call. Not only because cell phones weren't allowed in the courtroom, but also because CJ probably couldn't handle more sympathy. He was glad that Sam had been the one to go with her.

When he'd first learned that Sam intended to go with CJ, he'd wondered briefly if CJ had asked Sam to help her, but realized that it was more likely that Sam had just decided to be there, knowing, or maybe feeling, that she shouldn't have to face it alone. He was always trying to make sure people didn't have to handle things alone. Toby thought it was because he was an only child. With no siblings running around vying for attention, getting in the way, torturing or being tortured, supporting or being supported, Sam had most likely had a very solitary sort of a childhood.

  
Toby sighed, running a hand over his head. He didn't know where all those thoughts had come from, but he was beginning to think he was turning into a psychiatrist. That unfortunate thought reminded Toby of Bartlet's wordsa Brooklyn shrink's office

He needed a shrink. Why couldn't he write? What had happened to the words? To _his_ words! They had been his life. They had been in his blood. He had always been able to write. He had come to depend on it, to think of it as his right. It was part of him, like being Jewish or being from New York, or being a Democrat. Somehow, it was gone. He'd lost it somewhere, and he had no idea how to find it.

He picked up the legal pad on which his words had morphed into doodles. There was barely a decent phrase on the yellow paper, let alone a sentence or a paragraph.

Over the last several months, he'd been able, on occasion, to supply Sam with a good turn of phrase, or a vivid image, but that had been all. Toby shifted in his seat, leaning back and staring at the window that separated his office from Sam's. He still couldn't believe the kid was willing to cover for him in perpetuity. What was he thinking? That Toby was incapable of coming back from this? That Toby was some weakhe stopped himself, shaking his head. No. Sam had thought none of those things. Sam was trying to help. It was just

Toby jumped backwards away from his desk, startled by the ringing phone. Annoyed with himself, he picked up the phone, and, sounding even grumpier than normal, he shouted. "Toby Zeigler!"

The pause on the other end made him wonder if the caller had hung up. "Hello?"

"If that's how you answer the phone, it's a wonder you still work at the White House."

He recognized the voice immediately. "Andi? What did I do now?"

"Guilty conscience?"

"Conditioned response."

"I was calling to thank you for dinner last night. It was nice."

"Yes, it was." Andi had been the only thing in his life to go right these days.

"I'm glad you think so. Next time is my treat."

He hesitated, but didn't want to argue. "Ohkay."

She laughed, and he remembered in that moment why he had married her, and how it had felt to be her husband. They'd been together most of the summer. It had been like he'd remembered, except they went home to different houses. "There's something else you wanted?"

"Yeah, Toby, there is. I wanted you to know how much I've enjoyedus."

Toby sat up straighter. "Yeah?" He was afraid to say much more in case he said too much. Some of his fiercest arguments with Andi had seemed to spring full-blown from a crack in the sidewalk.

"Yeah. We should do it more often."

"Yeah?"

The laugh came again. "I've got the President's speechwriter reduced to monosyllabic discourse!"

Toby eyed the legal pad and the box of matches on his desk. "These days, that's not such a grand achievement."

"See you tonight?"

"I'll call you when I leaveand, Andi"

"Yeah?"

"I've enjoyed it, too."

  
They hung up, and Toby stared at his desktop wondering if this were what reconciliation felt like, or if he and Andi were merely going through some sort of phase. He smiled, leaning back in his chair again. Whatever it was, he was enjoying it.

**

****

Later

Outside the courthouse, CJ climbed into the Secret Service car, sliding over to make room for Sam. Ron Butterfield closed the door after Sam and climbed into the front seat.

Sam waited quietly not sure if CJ wanted to talk or felt more like riding in silence. She saved him from obsessing about that by speaking almost immediately.

"You were right."

  
"I was?"

"It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be." She offered him a tentative, but honest smile. "What happens next?"

"His trial date will be set. I'll stay on this, if you don't mind—just to keep an eye on things. You may or may not have to testify depending on how they proceed."

"That's okay. I can handle it now."

"I never doubted it."

She looked at him sideways. "You didn't, did you?"

"Not for a minute."

"Thanks, Sam."

Sam's smile didn't hide the slight flush of embarrassment that tinged his cheeks. "You're welcome, CJ."

**

****

Late That Afternoon

The Oval Office

Sam watched Josh, Leo, and the President for any sign that they might support his proposal. When no one responded, he felt compelled to speak. "So, as you see, it doesn't provide the increase we'd originally discussed, but"

"I thought we had agreed to the 10% increase." President Jed Bartlet looked at each of his staffers, and only when Josh refused to meet that gaze, did he realize what happened. By then, Sam had already jumped into the breach.

"The 10% increase isn't going to do much good. We can help more people if we rewrite the"

"Sam, we're never going to get it to pass."

"I think we can. It's worth the fight, sir" Sam cut himself off when he saw the look on the President's face.

Jed turned to Leo. Leo nodded almost imperceptibly, then turned his attention to Sam. "Sam"

Sam recognized the tone. It was the same one Leo always used when he was going to tell Sam they couldn't do something. Sam started to talk. "Leo, we can do this. There's no reason not to do it!"

"Of course there are reasons not to do it! There are reasons to do it. We can't win this one. We'll be wasting time in committees and compromises and we'll eventually end up with the 10% package. Let it go."

Sam shook his head stubbornly. "No! Leo" He turned to Josh, but Josh only shook his head. He turned to the President. "Mr. President, frankly, sir, we haven't done enough for the elderly. They need this increase. We have to fight for it!"

"I haven't done enoughthat's what you meant to say, isn't it?"

Sam, realizing he'd been shouting, shook his head. "No, sir. Of course not. I"

Bartlet stood, prompting everyone else to stand as well. "We'll go with the 10% increase." He glanced at Sam, and reluctantly added, "It's the best we can do, Sam. We have bigger fights coming up."

Sam didn't speak. He heard Josh say, "Thank you, Mr. President," so he repeated the phrase himself before he followed Josh out the door.

"Sam"

"It's okay." Sam gathered his notes. "It's okay. It was a long shot at best."

"You did some good work on it." Josh wanted to say more, but that was all he could think of as they headed down the corridor together.

"Thanks, Josh."

  
The way Sam said it, Josh knew he was being thanked not only for what he'd said, but also for letting Sam try. Too often in the last few years, people had cut him off. The Staff had gotten used to shouting him down and not hearing him out. It had to stop. Josh hoped he would be able to see to it himself.

"Hey, Sam."

"What?"

"Thatthe way things wentyou're okay with it?"

Sam considered what Josh was asking. "Do you want to know if I agree with the President, or if I can live with his decision?"

"BothI guess."

They reached Sam's office and Sam ushered Josh inside. Josh was relived when he didn't shut the door. 

"I don't agree with him, but he's the one who gets to make the call. What is this really about?"

Josh thought about pretending it was about nothingabout saying that it was nothing and Sam should forget it. But that's what the old Josh would have done, and Josh was just beginning to realize how much he didn't like that guy. "I wish it could have gone your way. I wish we could have done it."

"I know, Josh."

"You do?"

"Sure. I appreciate the chance to present my side, which I know you didn't have to give me, but if I couldn't convince the President, that's the way it goes."

Josh frowned, not liking the way Sam had put it. "This wasn't your fault, you know. You didn't fail in anyway. The President doesn't agree that it's the road we should take right now, that's all."

Sam nodded, smiling at his friend's verbal gymnastics. "Josh, it's okay. I'm not wallowing in guilt over this, and I am not offended or rejected, oranything. I disagree with the President, but it's neither the first, nor will it be the last time."

Josh looked at his friend in amazement, finally understanding. "You're okay with this."

"I said that."

"Yeah, but you really are."

"I still think he's wrong."

"I know you do." Josh grinned, and was ecstatic when Sam grinned back, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Busy afternoon?"

Sam nodded. "Still working on the education speech. Toby's not happy with the latest draft." _And I have to write a memo about Medicare for the President, he thought._

Josh winced. "Busy afternoonand evening!"

Sam smiled, and left the room, surprised that he and Josh had actually had a friendly conversation.

Josh, thinking much the same thing, and bolstered by it, headed to the other friend he needed to see. Approaching CJ's office, Josh turned to Carol. "Is she in?"

Carol nodded. "You can go in."

Josh did, easing the door, which stood ajar, open a bit further. "CJ?"

CJ looked up expectantly from the memo she was reading. 

"I wanted to tell you" He paused. This was hard. "I meant to say" He stopped, not sure how to proceed, and wishing that, like Donna had so long ago, he could just say Sagittarius or something equally vague and have her understand him. "CJ, I know where you were today, and if I had known sooner, I'd have been there, too."

She graced him with a small smile. "I know. It wouldn't have been right for all of us to be there. Sam was there."

Josh laughed. "Of course he was. Sam's at his best when he's backing a friend. He does that a lot."

"He does."

"If you need another friend"

"I know, Josh. I know."

Josh nodded, and slipped out of the room. 

**

To Be Continued


	4. Part 4

****

Non Sum Qualis Eram part 4

By Ecri

****

See Part One for Disclaimer and Spoilers.

**

****

August 26  
White House

Office of the Deputy Chief of Staff

Josh rubbed his tired eyes wishing the paperwork would just go away for a couple of days. He looked up to see someone he didn't expect to see fill his doorway. Hastily rising to his feet, Josh smoothed out his jacket with one hand and put out the other. "Mr. Vice President."

Hoynes shook Josh's hand. "Josh, you can call me John."

"I keep forgetting that. Did we have a meeting scheduled?"

"No. I hope you have a minute. I was meeting with the President about something, and I thought I'd drop by and get your opinion on something."

"Sure." Josh hated being puzzled, but he couldn't figure out what Hoynes would want to ask him.

"Josh, there's no way to lead up to this, so I'm gonna come right out with it. Why did I lose against Josiah Bartlet ?"

"'Cause you didn't listen to me."

"Seriously, Josh. Whatever it is, I want to know."

Josh was about to deliver a sarcastic comment, but something in Hoynes' demeanor made him think again. He knew Hoynes had to be thinking about his next campaign, and the fact that the Vice President was coming to him for information hinted that he was a different man than he used to be.

"OkayJohn." He gestured for Hoynes to have a seat. "The biggest reason is that you came off as arrogant and unlikable. You acted as if you thought you had all the answers. You came across as the type of man who wouldn't ask for help even if he needed it."

Hoynes was watching Josh intently as he spoke. He knew Josh was good at his job, if a little quick to shoot off his mouth. Hoynes hadn't seen this. He thought he was practical, pragmatic. This was similar to what the reporter from Time Magazine had been telling him. She had conducted a rather long interview, then spoken to some of his staff, his wife, his friends, but she never realized the thought that her candor had planted in his mind. "Arrogant?"

Josh nodded. "You need to be slightly more likable, yet you can't come across as if you're trying to be likable. You need to be firm on your issues, yet also seem as if you're open to compromise." Josh watched the Vice President absorb his words. "What I never understood, sir, is why you didn't see that. You've been in politics a long time. You know all of this."

"I know it as general information. I didn't apply it to myself. I didn't see myself that way. I should have asked sooner." Hoynes sat lost in thought. The reporter had been right. Time Magazine had sent an amicable young woman, though she was obviously opinionated, to conduct the interview. She had been frank at his insistence, and when she'd asked more than once what he thought the public thought of him, he'd turned the question on her. She had said what Josh had just said. After she'd left, he had had his secretary find copies of some of her more recent articles and some information about the woman in general. The Vice President had discussed it with his Chief of Staff, and now Josh had made up his mind for him. 

Hoynes rose from his chair and turned for the door. "Thank you, Josh. You've put some things in perspective for me."

"Glad to help, sir." Josh watched the Vice President leave his office Hoynes had listened to him, but wondering just what the man would do with the information.

**

****

September 1 

4:35 PM

Toby Ziegler hadn't been so exasperated sinceyesterday. He took a slow, deep breath to keep himself from making strange noises of frustration. Instead he reached for a ball and bounced it. It landed neatly in his hand. He bounced it again, catching it without needing to move his arm the slightest fraction of a degree. How long he sat there lost in the rhythm of the bouncing, he wasn't sure, but the sound of a voice in his office startled him so severely he fumbled the ball and almost fell out of his chair trying to right himself.

The sound of laughter did nothing to assuage his embarrassment. "You could knock when you enter someone's office!" Toby's gruff voice rose above the laughter.

Sam, still grinning, entered. It felt like déjà vu, even though he had been on the opposite side of the desk the last time. "The door was open!" His protest was weakened by the inability to wipe the grin from his face.

"That's no excuse!" Toby slipped the ball back in a drawer. "What did you want?"

"I came in to see if you needed a hand. I heard the ball"

"No. I'm fine."

The smile slid off Sam's features as he realized his boss' response had come too quickly. "What are you working on?"

"Samdon't."

Sam glanced towards the door, then at Toby, and took two steps towards the desk. "Let me help, Toby."

Toby sat back in his chair, raising his eyes to meet his deputy's. "There's nothing you can do."

For a moment, Sam looked like he was going to argue. He even opened his mouth and took a breath to do it, but then he let the breath out, took a step backwards and nodded. "I'll be in my office." He paused for a moment, then did return to his office, not hearing Toby's reply.

"And I'll be in mine."

**

****

September 1

9:31 PM

Sam sat still as stone. He wanted to get back to work, but hadn't quite managed it. Ainsley had left his office about 20 minutes ago, and he was still reeling from their conversation. He had found her wandering the corridors and talking to herself.

__

Ainsley Hayes walked quickly through the corridors of the White House until she got to the Communications bullpen. The closer she got to Sam Seaborn's office, the slower she walked. "Ainsley Hayes, you march right in there"

"You shouldn't talk to yourself in the halls. It makes the Secret Service nervous."

Ainsley jumped as Sam Seaborn came up behind her. "Sam! I thought you were in your office! Don't scare me like that!"

Sam, realizing that Ainsley did indeed seem rather jumpy, had the grace to look contrite. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you!" He ushered her into his office.

"Sam, I don't know where to begin."

"I didn't think I'd scared you that much." Sam's face betrayed the fact that he knew she was no longer talking about his sneaking up on her. 

"Sam" she sat, flustered by the fact that she was so flustered. This wasn't like her. She was confident, strong, said what she meantso why was it so hard to say what she wanted to say to this man. She looked up into his eyes, their blue depths warm and inviting but for the tinge of concern and trepidation she saw within them. Oddly, it gave her the strength to continue. "Sam, we need to talk."

That had been the end for Sam. He knew what those words invariably meant. He hadn't really needed to hear any of the rest of what she had to say. She'd said a lot. He remembered something about her thinking he was brilliant. 

They'd been talking for awhile, when she'd taken a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself. "You are a very special man. You are brilliant, and committedyou know, I read your litigation shield on the Indio. You were right. You are that good. It was the best shield I'd ever readprobably the best one I will ever read."

"And you hate brilliant men?" Sam quipped, wishing this were over.

"I enjoy your company, and I love arguing with you. I just don't love you. Not that way."

Sam stared at her, immobile for a moment. "I can't argue with that."

  
She took a step towards him wishing she could take away that look in his eyes as easily as she's put it therenot that this conversation had been easy. "If you take the time to think about it Sam, you'll realize that you don't love me, either."

"That would make it easier for you, wouldn't it?"

"What?"

"Ainsley, what if I take the time to think about it, and I realize I do love you?"

"Stop it, Sam! Don't you see? It doesn't take time. You either love me or you don't."  
  
"Which doesn't matter much, since you've decided you don't love me!"

In the end, Sam had asked her if there was anything he could say or do to make her change her mind. When she'd told him no, as he'd expected she would, he'd walked over to her, slipped his arms around her, and hugged her like he would never see her again. He'd pulled back slightly so he could look into her eyes, and, with a sad smile, kissed her on the forehead and let go. He stepped over to his desk, his back to her. He wasn't sure how long he'd stood like that, but when he turned around she was gone.

Sam rubbed his tired burning eyes, pretending the moisture there was from eyestrain.

**

****

Several Weeks Later  


Leo McGarry read the memo, his grin widening by the second. "Good work, Sam!" He slapped the Deputy Communications Director on the back in cheerful celebration.

Sam nodded, his face lit up with that half-pleased, half-surprised look such praise usually elicited from him. "Thanks, Leo."

Leo's exuberance faded as he studied the younger man. "Sam, how long have you been here?"

Sam blinked in surprise. "Four years."

Leo shook his head, chuckling at the answer, and the hint it gave him into the way Sam was thinking right now. "I meant this stretch."

"Oh." He considered the question, the puzzled expression on his face doing more to answer it than anything he might have said.

"Sam" Leo stepped over to his desk and shuffled a few papers. 

Sam spoke quickly trying to belay any concern. "I'm fine, Leo. I'm good."

Leo shook his head, knowing Sam was probably right at the moment, but that if he had been here as long as Leo was beginning to suspect, then Sam was going to crash and crash hard. Not finding the report he wanted, he bellowed for Margaret. When her head appeared in the doorway, he asked her for a security report and then turned his attention back to the Deputy Communications Director. "Sam, why don't you go home? You did good. You deserve a rest."

Sam was already shaking his head. "No, I have a couple of phone calls to make, and then I can follow up on"

"SAM!" Leo loudly interrupted. He lowered his voice at the startled look Sam gave him. "Sam, go on home and get some sleep. We'll still be here when you get back."

  
Margaret came in with the report and handed it to Leo.

"Thanks, Margaret." Leo rifled through a few pages, then waved them under Sam's nose. "Sam, according to the sentry records, you entered the White House four days ago at 5:35 AM and have yet to leave. I'd say that deserves a break."

Reluctantly, Sam nodded. "Sure, I'll go home and get a few hours"  


Leo started walking knowing Sam would follow. He headed towards Sam's office. "No. You go home and you can't be back until Tuesday."

"But"

Leo ignored Sam and called to Ginger. "Ginger, Sam's going home. He's not gonna be back til Tuesday morning"

Sam mumbled under his breath distracted by something Leo had said. "'Til TuesdayI wonder what happened to them."

"Take his calls," Leo instructed Ginger. "And if he shows up before then, come and get me."

"Good songvoices something."

Leo finally registered that Sam was speaking. "Sam, what are you talking about?"

"I really don't know."

"Go home."

"Going home."

"And get a cab. I don't want you driving like this!"  


Sam nodded. Leo glanced at Ginger who just gave him a don't-worry-I'll-take-care-of-it look and ushered Sam into his office where he could sit down until the cab arrived.

Leo smiled to himself pleased beyond measure that Sam Seaborn was on his team.

**

Somewhere in Indiana

Donna sat motionless, staring at Josh. She couldn't believe he had called Sam at home. He knew what kind of week Sam had had. Didn't he? He couldn't be oblivious. Of course, if the President needed to be staffed, and Josh was stuck out here

"You know how many times your expression has changed in the last minute?" Josh's voice startled her from her reflections.

"Was Sam okay?"

"Was Samof course he was okay."

"He's been really busy lately. Margaret told me Leo sent him home."

"When did you talk to Margaret?"

"Right after you talked to Leo. Didn't he say anything to you about Sam when you called?"

Josh shrugged. "He said Sam was at home. He asked if there was anyone else who could do this."

"There isn't, is there?"

"No."

Toby leaned towards the pair. "Sam will be fine. He's in his element when he's asked to do the impossible."

Donna smiled. "Yeah, he is, isn't he?" She turned her attention back to the map she'd been studying, but her mind was filled with images of Sam Seaborn. 

**

****

Sam's Apartment

Sam dressed hurriedly feeling oddly disconnected and more than slightly out of sorts. Josh's call had been more than a surprise. Of course, dropping the phone and crawling across his bed only to scramble for it before he was fully awake had a way of putting him out of sorts. Staffing the President. He was in no condition to staff the President. He hadn't slept inno. He shouldn't do the math. Somehow, he thought it might make him more tired and less able to function if he knew the numbers.

He wondered what Leo would say when he got there. The White House Chief of Staff had been pretty upset to see him for the brief time he'd already put in that morning. Ginger had physically chased him out of the White House into a waiting cab.

He wondered what the President would say. Of course, the President wouldn't know how long he'd been at the White House and that Leo had ordered him home only to have Josh change the Chief of Staff's orders. Sam hoped Josh had told Leo. He wasn't sure he wanted to explain it to Leo himself. 

He looked in the mirror, seeing not the well-groomed man who usually looked back at him, but rather a man teetering on the brink of exhaustion and scared to death that this would be the day he screwed up. As he stared, he inhaled sharply and willed himself to appear alert and attentive. He'd hidden his feelings and his exhaustion often enough to have gotten good at it.

"Thanks, Josh." He whispered to himself, not really mad at his friend, but somehow wishing that he would get to the White House and find this was all a practical joke. The thought of Josh laughing himself silly that Sam had believed that he'd somehow gotten stranded in the middle of America with Toby and Donna made him smile. He shook his head, knowing this was going to be a long day.

**

Leo McGarry wasn't happy that Sam had been called back to work, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. The president had to be staffed, and Sam was the only one available. He considered mentioning to Jed that Sam had been up for 50 or more hours, but decided that wouldn't really be in the President's, Sam's, or the country's best interests. It wasn't the kind of thing the President really needed to know until after the fact, if at all. Jed might yell at him for it later, but the President would gain nothing by thinking that Sam wasn't at 100%.

He watched from a distance as Ginger walked with Sam telling him something about using Margaret. Sam seemed nervous, but alert. Leo decided to tell Ginger to keep the younger man on large doses of caffeine today.

**

****

The Oval Office

  
Sam stood within the President's periphery vision. He felt a bit out of his element, but couldn't decide if that was because he was stupid or tired. He knew he wasn't normally stupid, but he surely felt it today.

He listened carefully to what was being said, offered opinions when the President requested it, and wished there was more he could do. He felt like a tree branch caught in the rapids. The chaos that was the Oval Office seemed out of control to him, but President Bartlet seemed more than equal to the task, seeming to calm the chaos with a wave of his hand.

Sam sighed. The meeting was over, and he followed President Bartlet to the coffee service. The tantalizing aroma as he poured seemed to make Sam's brain itch. He remembered that feeling from college, and he promised himself he'd switch to tea after this cup. He used to get that same itch when he pulled too many all-nighters in a row. He'd always imagined the coffee replacing the blood in his veins and creating a chemical reaction when it reached the blood-brain barrier. He no longer remembered what the blood-brain barrier was, but that had been the theory he'd devised while still an undergrad at Princeton wondering if he'd ever get into Law school.

"That could have gone better." Bartlet looked up at Sam, obviously expecting a reply.

Sam, caught up in his musings about caffeine addiction, all-nighters, and just what the blood-brain barrier was, tried desperately to recall what the last meeting had been about, and what Bartlet might think had good wrong. Somehow, a beat or two later than it normally would have occurred to him, he remembered it all. "The word will get around, sir, that you mean business. I don't think it could have gone any smoother. It wasn't likely he'd agree with you wholeheartedly, and at least now, he knows where you stand."

The President nodded, considering Sam's words. Sam turned his attention back to his coffee feeling entirely inadequate.

Bartlet watched Sam sip his coffee. The kid had staffed him before, of course, but not in a long time. He'd been there every step of the way during the campaign. He'd even successfully kept the then Governor of New Hampshire from hitting the floor face first once. Still, he could sense something was off. Sam didn't seem himself. He was nervous. Sam had been almost as jumpy the last time he'd staffed the President right after Rosslyn. He was about to check with Leo about it, when the updates on Josh, Toby, and Donna came in, driving everything else from his mind.

**

Sam watched CJ's press briefing from the Oval Office with the President. He'd already pulled out a notepad and made a few notes, things he'd need to ask Bonnie to check for him so he could write a statement, when Leo walked in.

Predictably, Bartlet addressed himself to his Chief of Staff. "How did it happen, Leo? Why weren't they safe? That's what they're all gonna ask me? What do I tell 'em? How does this kind of thing happen?" He didn't give Leo a chance to answer before he turned to Sam. 

"Change my speech for tonight. No way am I not addressing this! No way am I going to stand up there and talk to a snobby, snooty group of rich Democrats and pretend nothing happened!"

Sam nodded, not really listening to anyone but the muse in his head. "Yes, Mr. President."

"Get your tux, Sam. You're coming with me."

That managed to penetrate Sam's sleep deprived, adrenaline- and coffee-soaked brain. He looked up from his notes, but only nodded and agreed. "Yes, sir."

Leo shot the kid a look of sympathy, and vowed to make sure the Deputy Communications Director got some sleep when this night was over.

**

****

DNC Fundraiser

  
The President spoke with a conviction that came from the heart. Those who sat in rapt attention before him could feel what he felt. They heard the truth, the pain, and the vow to make things better in the voice of their president, and at that moment they loved him for it. His audience came to their feet, applauding and cheering when he finished. Bartlet waved, and nodded, the picture of humility and caring.

Sam Seaborn stood in the back of the room next to Bruno Gianelli. He didn't care that Bruno had called him a freak. He figured it was as close as the man could come to paying him a compliment. It didn't matter what Bruno thought of him, though. It only mattered what he thought of himself, and Sam Seaborn was pleased. He was too tired to manage happy, but pleased was something he could handle. 

It had been one strenuous dayand it had been a light day. He wasn't used to staffing the President, but he had risen to the challenge. Though he'd done it before, he hadn't done it in a long time, and this time he'd been awake for 68 hours. His brain was barely working. He was forgetting how to walk, and he had actually almost hyperventilated when his tired brain had focused too long on the idea of breathing. 

Yet, somehow, he'd managed to write a statement for CJ, add a section to the President's speech, and stay alert enough to have at least one good moment in the Oval Office today. He may even have had more, but most of the day was a hazy blur in his mind. He wondered how well things might have gone had he gotten a good night's sleep.

Seeing Leo heading his way, he shook off thoughts of sleep, and found a smile and an alert look for his boss' boss. "Great speech, Sam. I liked what you added."

Sam nodded. "Thanks. Is the President going to take questions from the reporters out front, or are we heading back?"

"He wanted to take questions, but CJ managed to convince him the press would not be on their best behavior."

Sam fell into step next to the Chief of Staff as they headed for the exit the Secret Service had secured. They'd only walked a few paces before Sam stumbled, putting a hand toward the wall to catch himself. Leo turned in concern just as Sam stumbled again. Leo caught the younger man before he could hit the floor. "Steady, Sam. Are you okay?"

Sam waved off any concern. "Yeah. I'm fine. I just tripped."

Leo looked pointedly at the smooth carpet before and behind them. "Over what?"

"I never needed anything before."

Leo conceded, but kept a hand out, not touching Sam, but hovering behind his back in case he should stumble again. It was an indication of how tired Sam was that he either didn't notice, or didn't care to comment.

They walked in silence, Sam lacking the energy to start a coherent conversation, and Leo wondering how soon he could get the kid to go home. Leo ushered Sam towards the motorcade. The President had asked him to have Sam ride back with him so they could discuss the statements he'd be giving the next day about the bombing. Leo had hurried Sam along, hoping to let him have a moment or two alone in the car before the President's presence took up all his energy.

  
Once Sam was seated, however, Bartlet managed to catch up to them. In moments, the motorcade was heading back to the White House. Leo sighed. The night was not quite over for Sam.

**

Sam followed the President into the Oval Office. Since the President was still technically talking to him, he figured he should stay close. What exactly he was saying was somewhat lost on the man.

Leo, sensing that Sam's adrenaline and caffeine regimen had ceased working in the car, tried to extricate him from the President's side. Unfortunately, when Jed Bartlet started in on securing the nation from lunatics with weapons, he generally didn't allow for much interruption. Leo and Sam let the President talk.

  
When he did pause for comments, Leo jumped in, saving Sam the need to think.

Finally, when Bartlet had run out of steam, he turned towards the other men. "I've been ranting again, haven't I?" He addressed himself to Leo, knowing Sam would be polite and try not to answer.

"Yes, sir, you have."

"Okay, I guess we're done now." He turned his attention to Sam. "That's all for tonight, Sam. Go on home. We can discuss the rest of the statements and speeches tomorrow."

Sam nodded. "Thank you, Mr. President." Sam nodded at Leo, and turned to leave. He walked slowly and with a great deal of deliberation, as if he were walking on ice and were afraid he would fall.

Bartlet watched for a minute, then turned to his best friend. "What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing a good night's sleep won't fix."

"He does seem a little tired."

"A little?" Leo chuckled, glancing over his shoulder at the retreating figure. "Yeah, he's a little tired."

"Why are you smiling at me like I'm soft soft-headed idiot who can't see the obvious."

"Because you're a soft-headed"

"Leo!"

"Don't give me lines like that and expect me to ignore them, sir."  


"Get out of here, Leo. You look tired, too."

"Yes, sir."

**

Leo stepped into his office to find someone waiting for him. "Mallory?"

He stepped quickly to her side, giving her a hug. "I didn't think you would make it! I'm sorry I didn't see you there."

She kissed him on the cheek. "I didn't want to bother you in case you were busy."

"Good idea. I'm never busy in my office. Have you decided if you're moving back here?"

She nodded. "For a little while, at least. I really missed you!"

They chatted for a few minutes more before Leo, leaning against his desk, smiled at her and whispered, "You can ask about him, you know."

"Who?"

"Sam."

"I wasn't going to ask about Sam."

"I know, and it looked like denying that impulse was going to give you a stroke." She opened her mouth to protest, but Leo waved it off. "He's good. He's doing good work."

"That speech tonight was his, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, he worked on it."

"That part at the end"

  
"He added that in the car on the way over."

"How does he do that?" She shook her head in disbelief and admiration.

Leo shrugged. "He's a bright boy."

"Is heseeing anyone?"

Leo had wondered how long it would take her to ask him that. "He was seeing Ainsley Hayes, but she hasn't been around lately, so I don't know what's going on there. You should ask Donna or Ginger. They can do some recon for you."

Mallory laughed. "I don't need to ask around. It was a casual question. I was only making conversation."

Leo smiled. "Sure you were." He hesitated, not sure he wanted to say this, but Sam had had a rough day. "Listen, baby, would you do me a favor and see that he gets home safe?"

"Why would you need me to do that?"

  
"He's had a rough daya rough couple of days, actually. Could you tell him I said go home. If I see him here in ten minutes, I'm sending the Secret Service after him and get him a cab. I don't want him driving."

She nodded. "Sure, daddy, but I'm going to ask you all about this later."

"I'm sure he'll tell you everything." He kissed the top of her head. "Call me tomorrow."

She promised to call, and then headed towards Sam's office.

**

****

Mallory's Car

The Streets of Washington, D.C

Mallory drove quickly through the nearly deserted streets of Washington, D.C. Sam had never felt so strange in all his life. He was exhausted, certainly, but he had assumed that, once he sat in the cab, he would fall immediately asleep. He hadn't. He felt one step removed from everything around him. He looked over at Mallory, drinking in her good looks, and amazed at her sudden reappearance in his life.

  
Her revelation that she was no longer dating the hockey player had surprised him. He'd assumed they were serious, and maybe they had been, but she wouldn't elaborate. Not that it was any of his business. He shook his head, wondering how he had ended up rambling to himself in his head.

The car stopped, but it wasn't until Mallory opened the door that he recognized his house. He seemed to be a beat or two behind in things like that, and he was glad he hadn't driven. 

Inside his apartment, he wanted to be a gracious host, but found Mallory steering him to his sofa. He sat down, gratefully, but otherwise, didn't move. Mallory stared at him for a moment. "You gonna be okay, Skipper?"

He nodded. "I'm good, Mal." He looked up at her, adding as an afterthought, "Can I get anything for you? A drink? Coffee?"

Mallory's laughter rang through the apartment.

"What's so funny?"

"You can barely stand! How are you going to get anything for me?"

"I hadn't really thought it through."

"Come on, let's get you to bed."

He grinned, a tired, foolish grin.

"To sleep, hot shot!" She tugged at his arms until he forced himself up off the sofa. Together, they headed towards his bedroom.

"Will you respect me in the morning?" He knew the joke was lame, but in his condition it was the best he could do.

"What makes you think I respect you now?" Only after the words were spoken did she realize they should not have been. 

Sam hesitated not moving for a moment, but then his shoulders seemed to slump ever so slightly.

"I didn't mean that, Skipper." She wondered why the word respect seemed such a hot one right now. Had someone told him he wasn't respected?

Sam nodded. "I know."

"Sam, really. I didn't mean"

"It's okay, Mallory. I know how you meant it. Respect is something you earn. I never even earned a date with you."

She shook her head, wondering if his state of mind was putting strange ideas into his head, or only tearing down his inhibitions and making it easier to speak his mind. "No, Sam. Of course I respect you."

He nodded, saying he knew, but Mallory wasn't sure if he was just saying that. Why, she wondered, did she always manage to put her foot in her mouth with this guy? Why couldn't she learn to watch what she said?

"Sam, you're tired. You were surprised to see me. I wish I could take that back. It was a bad joke, and a stupid thing to say."

Sam turned to face her. "I know. I understand. Please, Mal, my head is pounding. Can we do this later?"

She nodded, hoping she hadn't blown it with him again before they could even get started.

He stepped into his bedroom, and she turned to leave him alone. In a few minutes, he stepped out wearing sweats.

"Sam, I'm gonna go, okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks for seeing me home." He looked her in the eye, smiling. "I didn't really just say that, did I?"

She laughed. "Yeah, you did. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

He nodded, and closed the door behind her. Leaning against the door for a moment, he couldn't help but wonder what her coming back would mean for him. Did Leo know she'd taken him home? Did she think there was something here for them to pursue? Did she wanthe left the thought unfinished as he climbed into his bed. 

His thoughts turned to a sadder point. Why had she said that about respect? He knew she'd been joking. It was just eerie that the words had been so close to the ones Ainsley's father had used when Mr. Hayes had called him after Ainsley had broken up with him. He'd warned Sam to leave Ainsley alone and not try to get her back. Sam had replied that he would do as he pleased, and that he had hoped the two of them would be able to maintain a courteous relationship. He's mentioned that he and Mr. Hayes could certainly say they shared both feelings for Ainsley and a mutual respect.

Mr. Hayes had laughed. "And just what makes you think I respect you, Mr. Seaborn?" He'd hung up without giving Sam a chance to reply.

He didn't want to be thinking about that now. His pounding head and rapid heartbeat were telling him he needed rest desperately. Pulling the comforter up over his head, his last thought was a fervent hope that the phone would not ring tonight.

**

****

The Next Morning

Sam allowed himself to take a slightly longer shower than usual. The water, almost too hot, felt good on his aching muscles as it ran down his back in rivulets. The shower, invigorating as it was, couldn't alleviate the exhaustion of working 72 straight hours. As much as he might wish he could crawl into bed and stay there, he had to be in the office in an hour. He was just grateful he'd gotten 7 hours of sleep. Even before the last 72-hour marathon, he hadn't been getting more than four or five.

He didn't know if Leo would be upset with him, but they'd agreed he'd come back to the office on Tuesday, and he had several meetings that he couldn't reschedule. 

He recalled the time he'd spent staffing the President the previous day, and he could feel his old love of politics reawakening. Odd to think that, working in the White House for four years, he could feel like he wasn't really working in politics, but there it was. His day to day life had become something else. When the President had been inaugurated, this job had been the fulfillment of a dream. Four years later, he realized it was no longer enough. He wanted more.

Lathering up one last time, loath to leave the relaxing jets of water, he understood what the President had been trying to tell him all those months ago. One day, he would run for office, and he would win.

**

To Be Continued


	5. Part 5

****

Non Sum Qualis Eram part 5

By Ecri

****

See Part One for Disclaimer and Spoilers.

October 9

National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception

Leo looked around the church but saw very little. He knew it seemed full to capacity, but he found it hard to care. Unaware of what he was doing, he put his hand in his pocket and found the yarmulke. He'd forgotten about it. He found it hard to believe the man who had given it to him was dead.

His glance fell on the man standing next to him. Sam Seaborn was not the man Leo had at one time thought he was. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but he'd judged the man by his looks. He'd seemed young and cocky, and Leo now realized that was because he had beenwell, young and cockyat the time. Sam Seaborn had proved himself to be a competent politician, a talented speechwriter, a confident spin doctor, and, still, after all this time, an idealistic young man. He was also one of the few people in the White House who could work closely with Toby Ziegler and remain all of those things.

Sam, also scanning the church's interior, felt Leo's eyes on him. He spared a look and a smile for the Chief of Staff. Seeming to come to a decision, Sam spoke. "I was thinking about what you asked me before–about have I been able to think of anything' and I said no. And you said, Neither have I and neither has the President.'"

Leo's heart skipped a beat. He remembered the conversation. He remembered the serious, secret things that had come up. It was a second before he could get air enough into his lungs to ask to continue. "Yeah, what about it?"

  
Sam paused, allowing a ghost of a smile to play across his face. "I wouldn't speak for anyone else, but you know I'm not done yet, right?"

Leo wasn't sure what he expected, but that hadn't been it. Inexplicably, he felt a flash of hope. Watching Sam play with the idea of solving serious problems, when he was more aware than he had likely ever been before of the shades of gray politicians faced, proved to Leo that he had been right. Sam had grown a lot in the last four years, and most of that, he would admit, had been in the last year.

Leo recalled the President telling him that he'd told Sam he would run for office one day, and he wondered how Jed Bartlet had figured this out before him.

**

****

October 9

Outside the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception

After the Red Mass

Sam heard someone call his name as he left the Shrine and headed for the President's Motorcade. Scanning the crowd, he was dazzled once again by the sight of Mallory O'Brien.

"Mal? I didn't know you were going to be here tonight."

"I managed to get a ticket. How are you holding up, Skipper?"  


Sam glanced around to be sure no one had heard her. "Please, don't call me that in public."

She smiled, about to tease him, but the serious look on his face stopped her. "I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't know you didn't like me to call you that."

  
"You can call me that. When we're with friends, when we're aloneeven at the White House as long as it's not in front of the President and definitely not in front of the Press."

She nodded realizing how embarrassing that could have been for him. "Okay, Sam."

  
He grinned broadly at her, dazzling her with his smile. "You look wonderful." He told her.

"Thanks. Look, are you busy? I mean, if you are, it's okay, but if not, do you want to"

"Yes." He cut her off, and impossibly, his grin grew bigger and more irresistible.

"Yeah?" She asked again, at a slightly higher pitch. "Great! Good!"

"I have to go back with the Motorcade. I'll pick up my car and meet you" he trailed off, not sure if this would work for her.

"Sure. I'll meet you at my apartment." She supplied the location, hoping he would understand that this would be a date. A late one, certainly, but a date nonetheless. "We can go out for coffee."

"Coffee. Okay. I'll meet you in a half-hour."

Mallory nodded. 

Leo, watching from a safe distance, was more pleased than Sam would ever know.

**

****

  
October 15

Air Force One

Toby grabbed his briefcase as the plane touched down. "Sam," he called to his deputy, who was still scribbling notes on a legal pad. The long yellow pages were quickly filling up with line after line of Sam's hurried cursive.

"Yeah?" Sam asked, not looking up as Toby paused by the younger man's seat. "I'm going to try to get the President to start today. Will you be ready?"

Sam's mouth quirked into a lopsided smile, not at all like his usual display. Easily, he slipped into a dead on perfect imitation of Governor Ritchie. "I believe I am up to the challenge."

"Okay, see, this isn't the Rich Little show. This is serious. It took a lot of work to get the President to agree to this" He paused searching for the phrase.

"Debate camp." Sam supplied the term with a helpful look on his face, the lopsided grin growing.

Toby nodded considering the words. "Debate camp" he said, as if he were unconvinced, but had no better words. "My point is, don't do the debate like that. You'll have the staff rolling in the aisles, and it will take twice as long to get anything done."

Sam stood, having finally gotten his belongings in order. "I've got it under control, Toby."

"I hope so." As they walked, Toby considered what Sam had said. "How do you do that?"

"What?" 

"Sound like Ritchie."

"I am a man of many talents, Toby."

"Seriously. Who else can you do?"  


"I don'tI can't" He was suddenly flustered.

Toby grinned. "Can you do the President?"

"I really wish you wouldn't put it quite that way."

"Can you?"

Sam turned around and grinned in a way Toby had never seen before, gleeful, surely, but there was a hint of conspiratorial fun, and diabolical _craftiness_.

Toby laughed. "I really have to see that sometime."

**

Debate Camp

Donna watched the debate from the back of the room, watching everyone and everything, trying to guess what objections each would have. Often, she was right. When she wasn't, she tried to follow the logic of it all. Now, her attention on Sam, she wasn't surprised that he had been chosen to take Ritchie's side. He knew the politics inside out. His responses and rebuttals seemed to come straight from the Governor's mouth.

As Sam switched, launching into a possible answer President Bartlet could give, the President cut him off in irritation.

"Are you _doing_ me?"

"I may have slipped into it, sir." Sam agreed, slightly chagrinned.

Donna laughed with the rest of the room at Bartlet's indignation at being mimicked, but more at Sam's uncanny impersonation.

In moments, the mock debate had broken up with the President called away to handle the affairs of State. As he left, Leo reminded the President he still had 47 hours and 41 minutes out of 48 hours to go.

Most of the people in the room took the opportunity to find coffee or refreshments of some kind, but Senior Staff stayed behind, so Donna did, too. She told herself she should be nearby if Josh needed her.

Sam stood with Toby near the stage going over notes. She watched him adjust his glasses, and brush a wayward lock of hair off his forehead, before settling into some sort of a debate with his boss. Toby seemed frustrated about something they were writing, but his gaze kept straying over to Andi Wyatt. Donna watched as Sam's gaze followed Toby's and a grin spread across his face. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but Toby was distinctly uncomfortable. It was the grin on Sam's face that held her mesmerized. She hadn't seem him smile in so long, she'd forgotten what he looked like when he was happy. He'd been glum most of the year. It still pained her to think of how she had treated him when her friend Stephanie had come to him, but

  
"Dooonnnaaa!"

Startled to hear Josh calling her name, she immediately headed in his direction. "What?"

"Didn't you hear me? I called you a bunch of times."

"A bunch of times? It's so obvious that you're not the speechwriter."

"You were daydreaming again, weren't you?"

"Not really."

"Then what?"

"None of your business. What do you need?"

"Call Congressman Wilde's office and tell him we got his messages, but the President won't be making any stops in Orange County."

Donna nodded, still slightly distracted by thoughts of Sam. She hoped he had indeed forgiven her. She really didn't think he was like that. Sam was a good guy.

  
She ran off to make Josh's phone call.

**

Donna headed directly for her boss as soon as she spotted him. "Josh?" She sat next to the Deputy Chief of Staff as he watched Sam lead a small group in singing _Gaudeamus Igitur._

"What?"

"Wilde's office says they want more promises from the White House."

"They want what?" Josh gave her his full attention. "They're the California 47th! They can't think they're gonna win!"

"He didn't say, but he said they could at least get the Vice President if the President's not going to come."

Josh shrugged. "Tell them we'll pass that along to the Vice President's office. Then send a memo to Hoynes."

Donna nodded and made a note. Sam was still singing, and she felt her gaze drawn to him. "They're not bad!" She laughed at the sight of the smile on Sam's face, as they neared the end of their rendition.

Josh laughed as they finished, ignoring Donna's comment, and breaking into applause with the rest of the crowd.

Sam sat down next to Donna, and reached for a drink. "Hey, Donna."

"That was great, Sam." Her face was flushed from laughing.

He shrugged it off as if it had been nothing at all. "Listen, Josh, when you have a minute, Toby needs the rest of the information on the Campaign Finance Reform."

"He'll have it tomorrow. I'm gonna turn in."

"What about Team Toby?"

"I forgot about that. Is he gonna let us?"

Sam grinned, and Donna was surprised at how easily he seemed to do that now.  


"He doesn't get a vote."

"What's Team Toby?" Donna asked, smiling.  


"That's a secret." Josh stood, grabbing his drink.

"Yeah, I'll tell you later!" Sam added, brushing Donna's hand as he stood to follow Josh.

Donna stared after them, not even realizing that she followed a different deputy with her eyes than she once had. 

**

****

Two Days Later

Andi Wyatt stared across the table at her ex-husband wondering how they had gotten to this point. They were seeing more and more of each other, and she was surprised to find she enjoyed his company. It felt like it had in the beginning when they'd first met and first married. Not that there weren't arguments. Andi knew of no one who knew Toby who hadn't at one time or another had a knockdown drag-out with him. Toby was at his best when he was fired up.

Now, he was being uncharacteristically introspective. His fingers played with the long neck of his beer bottle, as his eyes darted around the room taking in everything from the crowded bar to the couple seated near the door who were gazing so deeply into each other's eyes they were most likely unaware they were still in a public place. He'd confessed to her his fears that the President wouldn't win reelection. He wasn't sure there was enough spin in the world to correct the President's image, though, he conceded, they'd made a great deal of progress, due, in large part to Sam Seaborn's impromptu idea of last June. Trapping Ritchie in an offer of debate had been a masterstroke, and Andi had been impressed. 

June was a long way away, though. The President's actual debate with Ritchie was coming up, and Toby was more than a little concerned that Josiah Bartlet, a man who did not suffer fools gladly, would find himself unable to control his responses to the GOP bait.

The debate camp had been a mixed bag. In some ways, it had assuaged any doubts, but in others, it had raised them.

"You need to step back, Toby."

Toby's chuckle was full of irony rather than humor. "You've been saying that to me forever. In this situation, I don't see what it is you think I don't see."

Andi smiled. "That's why you need to step back. President Bartlet isn't an idiot, and even those who don't agree with him, know that."

"Yes, I will grant you that, but a lack of stupidity hasn't always guaranteed the win in a Presidential Election."

"Have you done all you can?"

"What?"

"Is there anything you haven't done that would improve your chances?"

"I've been going over that for weeks. I can't think of anything."

"Then you shouldn't worry about something if you can't affect the outcome."

"You're getting all Zen on me now?"

"Let's not talk about politics."

"What else is there to talk about."

When she smiled, a mischievous light filled her eyes. "I'm sure we can come up with something."

**

To Be Continued


	6. Part 6

Non Sum Qualis Eram part 6

By Ecri

See Part One for Disclaimer and Spoilers.

** 

****

November 5

Election Night

Election night was like a double-edged sword Toby mused as he stared at the television watching the last of the election results. He loved elections, lived for elections, yet sometimes, the anticipation, the inability to control any of it, the helplessness of having the country's fate hanging on the weather, the ability of the political parties to get their message across, or even whether or not voters felt like bothering with it at all made him crazy.

Trying to find a distraction, he glanced around. The bullpen was crowded. Staffers from other departments seemed to migrate to the area searching for solidarity among coworkers in these last moments when the work of months came to fruition

Toby wasn't even sure why he felt this way tonight. The numbers were good. They'd been close earlier on, but while both Bartlet's and Ritchie's had steadily risen, the Presidents had done so by leaps and bounds, while Ritchie's had evened out, rising only minutely as the evening wore on. Even so, something vague, something just out of grasp tickled at the back of his brain, notching the anxiety up by degrees.

The announcement came. In a seriously anticlimactic moment, CNN declared the winner. President Bartlet would remain President Bartlet. A cheer went up from the crowd as everyone began to talk at once, hug, and laugh.

After a brief celebratory embrace, Josh was torturing Donna about her inability to read a ballot. CJ was doing her best to defend the younger woman, who seemed to have exhausted her finer defenses and resorted to shouting, "Impervious," whenever Josh stopped to take a breath.

  
SamToby glanced around the room looking for his deputy, and finally spotted him through the door of his office. He was on the phone, but was pacing the room as far as the phone cord would allow. Even from here, Toby could feel the waves of tension rolling off the younger man. Puzzled, and wondering if this were a personal problem, Toby slid off the desk upon which he'd perched and ambled towards Sam's office. 

As he drew closer, he could make out some of what Sam was saying.

"want to speak to her before she makes any announcements." Pause. "I didn't say that." Pause. "Of course, I" Pause. "I need to speak to the President before she takes the stage." Pause. "Because I'm not going to let him find out after the rest of the free world, that's why. I owe him that much." Pause. "No. I haven't." Pause. "Because it's not a done deal, yet."

Sam looked up to find Toby standing in his doorway. "When I say it is. Look, call me back in 15 minutes." Sam nodded, even though the person on the phone couldn't see it, and hung up.

"Sam?" Toby thought of saying more, but wasn't sure what to say. He was even less sure why words seemed to jam in his throat leaving him speechless.

"Toby." Sam stepped towards Toby and pulled him into the office, shutting the door behind him.

Toby was certain something was wrong. Sam never closed his door. The last time had been after the fiasco with Kevin Khan and the videotape. "What's going on, Sam?"

Sam ran a hand through his hair and leaned back against the door. 

Toby wondered idly if Sam were unconsciously keeping something in or out. "Whatever's going on, you have to tell me now, because you're scaring me."

  
Sam looked startled, but pulled himself away from the door. "Toby" He stopped then muttered under his breath. "If this is this hard with you, I don't know how I'm going to tell the President."

"Tell us what, Sam?" Toby's mouth had gone dry, and his hands had gone cold. He took a step backwards away from Sam even as Sam took another step towards him. Something serious was about to happen. Something that could seriously alter his world. Toby hated that. Andi had altered his view of the world enough. As had the President when he'd first told Toby about the MSas had Leo when he'd first hired Toby, and then had not fired him when he'd let everyone else go. 

"Toby, I think I may be running for Congress."

Toby stared at him a moment waiting for more. "You _may_ be" He looked at his deputy, noting the anxiety in his face. "There's room for doubt?"

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sam wanted to laugh at the words and at Toby's expression, but all he could do was mentally acknowledge the surreal situation and try to explain.

"I went to Orange County last week"

"To talk to Wilde's campaign staff, right?"

"Yeah." He sighed. "They're doing a great job. They believe in what they're doing."

"Leo said you couldn't get them to abandon the campaign."  


"I couldn't. The thing is Will said Wilde's widow wanted"

"Is this a tongue twister?"

"Toby, _listen_ to me. She wanted a name. Someone in the party willing to run in the special election should her husband win. I told Will to give her mine."

Toby sat silently, understanding the words Sam had used, but finding their actual meaning incomprehensible. "Yougave her"

"My name. If Wilde wins, I'm committed to run for his seat."

"You are." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah." Sam waited for the yelling. He braced himself for a tirade he was sure only Josh would easily surpass. To his amazement, he didn't get it.

"Congressman Sam Seaborn."

Sam blinked. He hadn't actually hung the title on his name yet. He had to admit it sounded good to him. He grinned.

Toby grinned back. Then he chuckled.

Sam chuckled. 

Toby stood and stepped to Sam's side. Sam stepped back, reminded of Toby's behavior at the play in New York earlier in the year. To the younger man's surprise, Toby engulfed him in an embrace. "Only you, Sam! You're going to run for congress accidentally!"

"Once again, you're very much freaking me out." Sam laughed with his boss, enjoying the release of the tension he'd kept to himself most of the day. Then, in realization of what Toby had said, he pulled away gripping the Communication Director's shoulders in alarm and panic. "Going to? You said going to. Did they call the race?"

Toby shook his head. "Too close to call the last I'd heard." 

"Will's calling back in" he looked at his watch. "eight minutes. He's worried I'm going to back out."

"Why would he think that?"

"Probably because I asked him to hold the announcement until I speak to the President and the widow."

"Are you thinking of backing out?"

"Nonot reallyI just"

Toby knew what this was. Sam's loyalty to his President was threatening to override his loyalty to the people to whom he'd given his word. "Sam, why did you tell them you'd run?"

Sam instantly remembered what he'd told Donna when she'd asked him that same question. She was the only other person on the planet who knew. It had been such a relief to have someone to talk to, and it had been so easy to talk to her. The same words he'd used then came tumbling from his mouth now. "You have to understand, I never thought it would happen. I didn't think he'd win. I mean, a dead democrat in Orange County? Couldn't happen! It didn't cost me anything"

"That's not why."

"Excuse me?"

"That's not why you gave them your name. It's why you told yourself you gave them your name. That isn't the reason you might be running for office."

"Toby, I think I know"

"Apparently you don't if I have to explain it to you!" Exasperated, he let some of the fire creep back into his voice. "Sam, somewhere inside you, the idea of running appealed to you. Frankly, I'm surprised you haven't left to run for office before now. You're young, you have a career to plan! What did you think you'd be doing four years from now?"

"I hadn't thoughtI've been too busy to"

"You're running for Congress, Sam. And I think it's wonderful. And I'll do anything I can to help you take that seat."

Sam blinked, gaping slightly at his boss. He hadn't expected so positive a reaction. He hadn't expected so strong a commitment. Not knowing what else to say, he settled for the obvious, but said it softly and sincerely as only he could, imbuing it with more meaning and gratitude than most people could. "Thanks, Toby. "

There was a knock on the door as Josh opened it, peeking inside. "CNN says they'll be calling the Orange County election in a few" Josh looked from Sam to Toby and back. Something was going on here, and he wasn't sure what. "What's up?" He slipped inside and shut the door.

Sam looked at Toby for a second. Then turned back to Josh. "If Wilde wins the election, I'm going to run for his seat."

Josh stopped breathing for a second. When he started up again, he reached for Sam's hand, feeling as though the world had been turned sideways and no one had noticed but him. "That's what all the calls have been about? The ones from Will Bailey?"

Toby interrupted. "_Will_ Bailey?"

"I know. I've had the song stuck in my head for a week." Sam turned his attention to Josh. "Are you okay with this?"

"Okay? I don't even understand yet. Sam, if you lose, you're killing any chance of running for office in the future."

"Josh, look"

"Come on, Sam. Why are you doing this?"

Sam was surprised at the pained expression on Josh's face. He hadn't expected much of an argument from this man he'd known longer than anyone else on staff. He hadn't thought Josh would give his career a second thought. He never had before. Sam thought about what Toby had just told him, and he thought about what he'd been saying to Will Bailey. He thought about that night, months ago, when he'd staffed the President. "I have to Josh. It's time." He knew it was a lame answer, but it felt so right.

Josh, still looking unconvinced at the wisdom of the decision, gestured towards the door. "We'd better get out there and find out if we have another campaign to win." 

Sam felt his heart sink as he realized Josh was anything but happy about the situation. Of course, he himself had spent most of the day in a knot of anxiety over it, so how he expected Josh to embrace the idea was beyond him.

The trio stepped out to the bullpen. CJ was no longer there, but Donna waved them over, and spared a questioning glance at Sam. Reassured by his slight smile and slighter nod, she turned her attention back to the television.

"And with 98% of the votes counted, CNN is declaring the congressional race in Orange County won by Horton Wilde, Democrat. This is an interesting development. There will have to be a special election within 90 days to decide who will hold the seat. I'm assuming that, once the Republican incumbent makes his concession, the Wilde Campaign will give us a name"

Sam took a step back from the TV. Sudden fear gripped his heart almost making it skip a beat. "Get Will Bailey on the phone!" He yelled at Ginger. 

Ginger did a double take, not accustomed to Sam yelling. She grabbed the receiver and started dialing, still staring at Sam and wondering just what was going on. She saw Sam's attention riveted to the TV. Unable to tear his eyes from the screen, Sam started to bounce just a little as he loudly demanded that someone get Will Bailey on the phone. Ginger spared both an eye and an ear for the TV.

"and we are expecting an announcement from Mrs. Wilde momentarily. She has confirmed that she has a name"

To Ginger's astonishment, Sam's bouncing increased as did the volume of and pleading in his voice. "Sorry, Sam, I can't reach him."

Toby, standing slightly behind Sam, put a hand on each shoulder and began to steer Sam away. He nodded to Ginger. "Keep trying." He nodded in Josh's direction, and the two went with Sam into Sam's office. 

Moments after the door was shut, it opened again, and Josh's head poked out. "DONNNNAAAAA!" His yell produced a quicker reaction than usual. Ginger was surprised at the lack of exasperation and the ceasing of the yelling of the word impervious.

Josh spoke in hushed tones to his assistant who nodded and headed towards CJ's office. In moments, both women returned, knocked on Sam's door. The door opened, seemingly of its own volition, and then shut tight after the two had entered. Ginger took this all in, but shrugged it off and continued to try to reach Will Bailey.

**

CJ stared at Sam. "I honestly don't know what to say." She looked around the room. She considered making a crack about not being his first call, but thought that was too unkind, considering the level of anxiety she could see in his tension-filled frame and worried eyes. "I think you should talk to the President. He should know before the formal announcement."

Sam nodded. "I haven't even told Leo, yet. I should tell him, first, right?"

Just then Ginger knocked and opened the door a crack. "Will Bailey." She announced, pulling the door shut almost immediately. 

Sam lunged at the phone. "Will? What? I can't hear yougo walk into a closet or somethingyeah, that's better. She is? Sure, I'll speak to her." Pause. "Mrs. Wilde, how are you?" Pause. "Yes, of course, I am running for your husband's seat. I just wanted to tell the President about it beforeHow long can you give me?" Pause. "Absolutely, Mrs. Wilde. Yes. Okay. Sure, put him, on." Pause. "Will, I'm going to need all the numbers" Sam smiled. "Sure, you go and celebrate. Call me after Mrs. Wilde makes the announcement."

Sam hung up the phone. "I have to talk to Leo and the President within the next 20 minutes." His friends all smiled at him, so he smiled back. 

Toby laughed out loud, surprising everyone present with his jocularity. "Let's take care of that."

**

****

November 7

It was a strange thing for Sam to hear his name in phrases like "congressional-hopeful" and "Congressional Candidate Sam Seaborn". He sat at his desk going through a few notes he'd been making for the Inauguration. He hated the idea of leaving it to Toby, so he planned to write as much of it as he could, which, he conceded, wasn't likely to be much.

He checked his watch. 10:15 AM. He had to be at the airport in two hours. Tonight he was making an appearance in Orange County, and then he'd be flying back in the morning to pack and officially request a leave of absence.

Sam sat back in his chair recalling how the President and Leo had taken the news that he was running for Congress. It had hardly gone the way Sam might have imagined it, if Sam had ever allowed himself to imagine such a thing.

The President and the First Lady had just left the victory party, and were with Leo in the Residence enjoying the spoils of war. 

"and that's where the term 'spoils of war' came from. Now, of course"

Leo looked up at the sound of the door opening, his face hopeful, like a man on death row expecting a reprieve. Charlie leaned into the room. "Sir, Senior Staff is here to see you."

Bartlet, startled at the interruption, stood as Charlie entered. He was even more startled by the revelation that his entire staff had a problem worth bringing to him en masse. "The _entire_ Senior Staff?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay." Bartlet waved them in, glancing towards his Chief of Staff for an explanation. Leo, of course, didn't have one.

CJ, Toby, Josh, Donna, and Sam entered the office, though Donna was being both pushed and pulled inside as though under protest. This at first made Bartlet think that whatever problem the staff had, must have something to do with Donna. Then he recalled how she had once raised her hand once in the Oval Office, and figured the girl felt out of place. 

"Donna, it's okay. You can come in."

Donna blushed as Abbey hit her husband's leg for being so cruel as to draw attention to the girl.

Jed ignored her. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

For a minute no one spoke. They looked back and forth at each other. CJ and Donna grinning, and Josh and Toby looking pointedly at Sam.

Sam cleared his throat. "Mr. President," he turned then to Abbey and Leo. "Dr. Bartlet, Leo"

"We know who's here, Sam. Tell us why you all are." Jed sounded slightly exasperated, slightly playful.

"Of course, Sir. I wanted you to know about the California 47th. They called the race, sir. Wilde won."

"A Democrat won in Orange County?" Bartlet turned to Leo, incredulous by the news. "Did you hear that? A Democrat took the 47th!"

Leo snickered. "A dead democrat! A lot of good that does us."

"More good than you might think." Josh whispered, but the smile fell from his face just about the same moment that Sam's elbow connected with his stomach.

"Sir, when I met with Wilde's people before the election, I sort of" He stopped, the words stuck in his throat. Toby helpfully pounded him on the back, and they tumbled right out. "I agreed to run for the seat if Wilde won."

Bartlet's face was blank for a moment, but soon ran the gamut of every emotion from surprise to pride and from consternation to joy. Bartlet took several steps towards Sam and engulfed the younger man in a hug. "Congratulations! Sam, this is wonderful! The election will be in whatthree months, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then what are we waiting for? We have a campaign to win!"

Abbey stepped forward just then. "You certainly waited until the eleventh hour to tell us!"

Sam nodded. "We're talking about the California 47th, after all. I didn't think it would get this far."

She smiled, wisdom in her eyes. "You hoped it would.

"I suppose I did."

Leo chimed in, pulling his cell phone away from his ear, thought know one had seen him get it out and dial. "I think I can get you some funding." Leo's mind raced ahead formulating a list of people who might be generous to their cause.

"What happened to putting our resources where they'll do the most good?" Sam remembered the words Leo had used when Sam had mentioned all the impossible districts that weren't getting much in the way of assistance from the Democratic Party.

Leo had no trouble recognizing them, either. "Are you kidding? Getting you into the California 47th is definitely doing the most good! Do you have a campaign staff, yet?"

"Hang on, Leo! You have a job!" Bartlet reminded his friend.

"We can find someone who doesn't, I'm sure."

Bartlet eyed his staff. "Not from within this room!"

There'd been some laughter, probably because of the general giddiness over the late hour, the President winning reelection, and the prospect of Sam running for Congress. The President had offered to help anyway he could, and Sam knew he meant it. His biggest problem right now was how long he could possibly continue being effective working for Toby when he was supposed to be campaigning on the other side of the country. The more he thought about it, the more he knew it wasn't possible. Once he'd classified it as impossible, he started to figure out ways to do it anyway.

**

****

November 9

CJ's Office

CJ Cregg entered the Communications Bullpen looking for answers. She'd finished her third briefing of the day, and had been besieged with questions about Sam Seaborn's campaign for Congress. She'd deflected the questions as best she could, but she was going to need something solid to give them soon.

She peeked into Sam's office, but he wasn't there. She scanned the area looking for Ginger or Bonnie. Coming up empty, she finally headed into Toby's office.

"Toby, got a minute?"

Toby glanced up from the pristine pages of his yellow legal pad and nodded. "Sure. Why not?"

"I'm getting a lot of questions about Sam's campaign."

"Okay."

"So what do I tell them?"  


"What do they want to know?"

  
"Who's running the campaign? What does the President think about Sam running? When did he make the decision to run? Do Sam and the President think he'll win?"

"Will Bailey. The President is happy for Sam. Sam decided to run for Congress when Will Bailey told him that Wilde's Widow needed a name, and as for winning, he's not going into this trying to lose."

She smiled. "Those are good answers."

"Anything else?"

"Do you think he has a chance?"

Toby looked around the room, as if the answer to that particular question would be written on the walls. He leaned back in his chair his eyes fixed on CJ's face. Somehow he gave away too much with the look or else CJ was just too accustomed to the way his mind worked. She took one look at him, crossed her arms in front of her, leaned against the doorframe and said, "Oh my God."

"What?"

"You want to run Sam's campaign."

"What?"

"You want to be his campaign director, don't you? Don't deny it Toby. It's written all over your face."

"No, it isn't." He paused, and stood somewhat nervously. "Is it?"

She laughed, the sound catching him unaware and bringing a smile to his own features. 

"It is! You really want to do this, don't you?"

"How? How do you know that?"

She sat on his couch, leaning back and crossing her long legs. "Admit it first, and then I'll tell you."

"Fine. I admit it. I want to run his campaign."

"I knew it."

"Come on, CJ. How did you know?"

"I saw it in your eyes."

He gave a short bark of a laugh that spoke more of incredulity than of humor. "You're evading the question!"

She smiled a wicked smile. "It's what I do."

"You can't tell him."

"Why not?"

Toby sighed. "Will Bailey is running his campaign. I'm supposed to be writing the Inaugural speech, and there's the education thing we're working on. I can't take a leave right now."

"He hasn't got a clue you want this job?"

"If he had a clue, I wouldn't be telling you not to tell him."

"You know you're his favorite writer?"

"What? How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Jump from topic to topic like that with hardly any relation between the starting point and the destination."

"You just don't follow the inner workings of my thought processes."

"Thank God for small favors."

She stood up from his sofa remembering as she did the last time she'd seen Sam sort of flopped across it. "Don't worry. You're secret is safe with me."

As she headed for the door, he called out to her. "Wait, CJwhat did you mean I'm his favorite writer?"

"I asked him once who his favorite writer was. He said you were. I had to specify fiction' in order to get a real answer out of him."

"A real answer? Are you saying I'm not a real writer?"

"I'm saying I was looking for a more conventional answer."

"He said Dickens, didn't he?"

"Yeah, but he said you first."

Toby smiled as she walked from the room, wondering how many more times in his lifetime Sam Seaborn would surprise him.

**

****

November 15

The White House

Ainsley Hayes stared at the reference books laid out across her desk. They'd stopped making sense about an hour ago, but she had stubbornly clung to the misguided notion that perseverance would carry her through. The words blurred again, and she closed her eyes for a moment to clear them. It was only when her eyes actually burned from being re-lubricated that she realized they weren't the only things that were tired. The sting slowly subsided, and she opened her eyes. 

She glanced at her watch noting that it was far later than she'd intended to stay at the office. Unfortunately, she also noted the watch. Sam had given it to her, and sometimes, when she was tired, just looking at it could bring him back to her with a painful suddenness. 

Of course, now that he was running for Congress–Congress!–she was often caught off guard by a glimpse of his face on a B reel somewhere, or the sound of his voice echoing through the bullpen before she realized it wasn't coming from his office, but rather from the TV screens high above her head. The Communications staff seemed to stop what they were doing whenever they were able if Sam was on the screen. Ginger usually grabbed the remote and pumped up the volume. 

Sam Seaborn was one of the most romantic men she'd ever dated. He was sweet, and he did a thing rare among the men she'd dated: he listened. 

She stared at the watch now, and she knew something. She'd been right all along. She didn't really love Sam. "I must be crazy." She whispered under her breath. She knew, intellectually, that Sam was just about perfect. He was handsomeman, was he handsome! He was intelligent. He was thoughtful. He was sweet. He was generous. She knew all of that, but she felt more of a sisterly affection for him than a burning passion. It was both a relief to have her doubts quelled, and a burden to know she'd caused Sam such pain. She'd never forget the look in his eyes when she told him that she didn't love him. 

Ainsley rubbed her tired eyes and settled back to work, hoping that one day Sam would find true love.

November 15

The Same Time

Inhaling the pleasant, homey aroma of vanilla hazelnut drained the tension from Mallory's face. She kicked off her shoes, and slipped into her slippers. She didn't change her dress, but she really couldn't take those shoes for another moment. 

Her new shoes had not been a practical choice. Black, too high, and too pointy for any human foot, Mallory had decided to wear them because they looked so nice with her new black dress. She'd known they wouldn't be comfortable, but she hadn't considered the possibility that she might need surgery at the end of the night.

Most men never noticed what kind of pain and discomfort women had to endure when they dressed like this, but Sam was an altogether different kind of man.

It had been Sam's idea to get their dessert to go and leave the restaurant. She laughed out loud at the already precious memory of it all. Once they'd gotten the desserts to go, she'd gotten up from her chair and he'd helped her on with her coat. Then, suddenly, he'd scooped her up like a child, and easily carried her to the car. 

"Just what are you doing, Sam Seaborn?" Mallory had shrieked in surprise.

  
"I'm taking you to the car."

"I am perfectly capable of walking to the car myself."

"Yes, you are, but the amount of pain it would cause youfrankly, ridiculous."

She laughed and pleaded with him to put her down, but he was adamant, and put up with her playful slaps, and cajoling. He'd placed her gently inside his car. When they'd gotten to her apartment, he'd calmly scooped her up again and carried her upstairs. Once inside, he would only put her down when she promised to take off the shoes. When she'd protested, he'd threatened to carry her to her bedroom and find her slippers himself. 

Mallory was no fool, or maybe she was, she wasn't sure anymore, but she hadn't thought it a good idea for him to carry her to her bedroom. She'd begged him to put her down, and she'd dashed into her bedroom to find her slippers. 

She felt awkwardly short as she walked into the kitchen. He had his back to her and was counting scoops of coffee as he put them in her coffee maker. Finally satisfied, he hit the brew button, and picked up their desserts. She watched as he found plates and forks.

"Thanks, Skipper." She gestured to the brewing pot.

He turned to face her. "You didn't taste it yet. Here you go," Sam said as he passed her cheesecake over to her. He sat next to her, bringing his cranberry/white chocolate chip cake with lemon icing drizzle.

They talked about everything and nothing, and Mallory laughed like she hadn't in ages. She remembered Abbey Bartlet telling her she had an itch for Sam Seaborn, and now, she knew she couldn't deny it any longer. 

  
He rose to get their coffee when it was ready, and she found herself wondering if she should let herself love this man, and she realized it was too late. She already did. She loved his walk, his laugh, and his smile. She tuned back into his voice, listening not only to what he was saying, but also to how he said it. Yes. She loved his voice, too.

"and, I admit, I had slipped into it, but in no way was it intentional. It couldn't have been! I don't think I'd ever dare to imitate the President in his presence _intentionally_."

She laughed, and reached across the table to touch his cheek. He took her hand and held it there for a moment, then he moved his face slightly and kissed her palm.

She stared into his eyes, and saw in them his future. She saw her future if she chose to love him, and, inexplicably, she felt fear.

**

****

November 15

Orange County

Scott Holcombe stared at his friend. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Why should I help you?"

"You know why."

"I don't have anything against him!" Scott looked nervously around the crowded restaurant.

"How long have we been friends? Are you really not going to help me out when I need it? You're the only person I know who's gotten close to him."

"You know I want to help. I just don't want to take this too far."

"You don't have to do anything illegal. We just don't want him to win." He leaned across the table and spoke in a confidential tone. "We wouldn't expect you to do this out of loyalty or kindness. We would be sure you werecompensated."

Scott's objections melted away as a grin spread across his face. "I assume you had something in mind."

**

To Be Continued


	7. part 7

Non Sum Qualis Eram part 7

By Ecri

See Part One for Disclaimer and Spoilers.

****

November 16

The White House

Roosevelt Room

CJ Cregg scurried into the Roosevelt room carrying the largest sheet cake she'd ever tried to carry on her own. She moved quickly to the table, where Donna, Bonnie, Ginger, and Margaret were fussing over decorations, balloons, and the placement of paper plates and napkins. "Do we have everything?" 

Donna nodded. "I think so. Leo is bringing the gift. Sam doesn't suspect a thing. Toby's keeping him busy in his officesomething about some last minute speechwriting before he leaves.

CJ pondered the list. "What about the President and The First Lady?"

"They insist on being here. Josh is supposed to let them know when Sam gets here, so they can drop by."

CJ surveyed the room. "This is great."

Just then, Carol ran into the room, breathless. "CJ, Senior Staff in the Oval. We've got a situation at the Lincoln Tunnel."

CJ didn't bother asking any of the questions rolling around in her head. She broke into a run and raced after Carol. 

Donna, Margaret, Bonnie, and Ginger followed after her. Donna shut the door, to the room, shutting away the frivolity so they could deal with the chaos.

**

****

Several Hours Later

The Oval Office

President Bartlet sat back in his chair for the first time since this all began. Wearily, he looked at his Chief of Staff. Leo was looking back at him. "Now that we're alone, have you heard anything from Fitz or Ron?"

Leo shook his head. "Nothing concrete, sir. Fitz requested a meeting with you in about an hour. Ron Butterfield says he should have more information by then."

"They must have some ideas who was behind this! That truck could have blown up the Lincoln Tunnel!"

"The truck was stopped well before it came anywhere near the tunnel, sir."

"But that was the intention, wasn't it."

"From what we've been able to piece together."

Bartlet was prepared to yell, when a new thought crossed his mind, silencing him for a moment. When he did speak it was in soft tones full of fear that he would never have used in front of anyone other than his best friend. "Leo, this wouldn't have anything to do withyou don't think it has anything to do withthe Qumari."

Leo sighed. If he could spare Jed this, he would. "It might. That's one of the things Fitz is looking into."

Bartlet didn't reply, but Leo could see in his eyes the thoughts that chased themselves around his friend's head. They started with _what have I done_.

**

****

Sam's Office

The Same Time

Sam Seaborn slipped a few more files into his briefcase, and turned at last to the flag hanging framed on his wall. He'd been told he had to clear everything out of the office. It wouldn't do for anyone to think he was maintaining his White House office while he was campaigning. It would throw an unwelcome spin on his campaign. Still, taking down the flag was hard. It meant a lot to him, and it was the first thing he'd put on the wall that day they'd moved in. Toby had been blustering through the White House, and finally settled on where he felt the Communications Office should be. He'd pointed at his office and said to Sam. That's mine. You take the one next to it."

That had been all the instruction he'd gotten. It didn't take him long to set himself up, and that framed flag had been like marking his territory. Josh had laughed when he'd seen it.   
"I could have walked in here and known this was your office even if you hadn't been sitting at the desk!"

Sam reached up and grabbed a hold of each side of the frame.

"So that's it then? You're ready to go?"

Sam turned to see Toby staring at him from the doorway with an almost forlorn look in his eyes. He let go of the frame, letting it settle back against the wall. "Pretty much. My flight is at 1:00 AM."

"Ouch!"

"Yeah, well, I won't sleep anyway. This way"

  
"You get to start your campaign exhausted?"

"I guess so."

Toby stepped into the office. "Sam, good luck. If you need anything, let uslet me know."

Sam stepped around the desk closer to Toby, then leaned back against it. "I promise, Toby. You'll be the first call I make." He dropped his voice a bit, knowing Toby hated to talk about his writer's block. "If you need a hand with the Inaugural"

"No. This isn't about me. If I need help turning a phrase, I have the speechwriting staff."

"If I can help at all"

"You can. Take care of yourself out there, andwin."

"Toby, it's the Cali"

"I know what district it is! You go in wanting to win or you don't go in at all!"

Sam was surprised by the way Toby was taking this. He knew, on some level, he wanted this. He wanted to win. He wanted to be a Congressman. Yet, if anyone had asked him what he wanted before this had all come to pass, he was sure this wouldn't have made the list. He'd been doing some soul searching the night before. He'd bumped into Ainsley and they'd had a long chat about his bid for Congress. She'd laughed at the way he'd ended up running for office. 

__

"Sam Seaborn, the accidental Congressman!"

"Stranger things have happened!"

"Yes, and usually to you!"

Sam had enjoyed their chat. He'd been afraid they'd drift apart after breaking up. He was happy now with Mallory, but sometimes in his minds eye when he imagined his future it was a blonde head, and not a brunette one sharing it with him.

With effort, Sam brought himself back to the present and Toby's words. "I will. Toby, I promise I'm going into this to win." 

"See that you do." Toby maintained his gruff demeanor, and turned to leave. At the last minute, he turned around and looked at Sam as if he had more to say, but he just hurried out of the office.

  
Sam stared after him for a moment, then returned to his flag.

**

****

Later

Donna peered into the Roosevelt Room, knowing they'd never had a chance to put away the party things. She stepped in thinking she should put some things away and wishing they'd had the party they'd intended to have. Poor Sam. It wasn't until she got to the table that she realized she wasn't alone.

"Sam! What are you doing here?"

Sam turned to face her. He'd been staring at a photograph they'd had enlarged and framed for him. It sat there on the table with a big red, white, and blue bow on it. The photograph was one of them all. The President stood in the center. Leo stood on the President's right, Sam on his left. It had been taken soon after they'd moved into the White House.

Donna gestured towards the photo, the cake, and other party paraphernalia. "We had planned"

Sam nodded. "I know. It's the thought that counts, and this was a nice thought."

"Why are you still here? I thought you had to go and catch a plane."

"I do. I'm going now."

"Oh, no you're not."

Sam and Donna both turned startled at the sound of the President's voice as he entered the room followed by the rest of the Senior Staff and the assistants. Amy Gardener and Mallory O'Brien followed the First Lady. Ainsley Hayes came in a few moments later with some of the other lawyers from her office. Sam was well liked there. They saw him as their inside man because he was a Senior Staffer, but he was such a good lawyer.

"This isn't quite what we'd intended, Sam, but we need to wish you well." The President shook Sam's hand vigorously. "We're behind you."

Donna watched as Sam accepted the good wishes of his friends. He was so happy. She'd been worried about him. He'd had a rough year and he really hadn't seemed himself. He seemed more confident now. He seemed ready for this fight, this battle for the California 47th. His confidence was back. His fire was back. He had gotten past the disappointments, and maybe he had found a dream to follow.

She noticed Amy grabbing Josh's arm, but didn't care about it anymore. It was much later that she realized seeing Mallory hanging on Sam's arm was what she'd cared about.

"Thank you." Sam smiled basking in the affection of his friends. "I really didn't expectI mean, it's not like I'mI'll be back in three months!"

Bartelt stepped forward. "Unless you win."

"Yes, sir. Unless I win, but I'm really not going to win. That can't really happen. This is the California 47th. Democrats don'tIt was an Aristotelian confluence of events..." 

  
"We've all heard the line, Sam." CJ stood next to the guest of honor. "But we still want to wish you good luck.

  
For a short time, Sam mingled with his friends, Mallory next to him, as he said goodbye, insisting he'd be in touch. When he reached Ainsley, he smiled and took her hand. "I didn't think I'd get to see you before I left."

Ainsley's own smile was apprehensive. "Me, too. I just wanted to say good luck, Sam. We can't vote for you, but we will be cheering you on."

"Thanks, Ains." He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, then moved on to the others in the room.

Donna noticed once he'd left Ainsley that Mallory seemed to have more than a few things to say. She was whispering in his ear, but Donna guessed that she was upset that Sam had kissed Ainsley. Some women just couldn't handle a little friendly gesture to an old girlfriend. Donna watched as Sam thanked them all again. It was when Mallory moved closer to kiss him on the cheek that Donna felt her own smile fade.

**

Seaborn for Congress Campaign Offices

Orange County

Angela sliced open the box and rummaged expectantly through the packing materials. "Ow!" She yelped as a wayward pin pierced her thumb. 

"That's what you get for being impatient." 

"I wasn't being impatient."

"You've always been impatient. You can't wait for anything."

Angela grinned at her friend and fellow volunteer. "Come on, Abigale. We've got five more boxes of campaign buttons and ten boxes of posters to unpack."

  
Abigale frowned, crossing over to her friend, and flipping a page over on her ever-present clipboard. "What happened to the bumper stickers?"

"I sent them back to the printers."

"Why?"

"They said Seeburn for Congress."

"They did not!"

A third head popped up from behind some boxes. Theresa just rolled her eyes. "Girls, we have work to do." 

The sound of applause precluded any response. They turned to look toward the door. There stood Sam Seaborn, looking slightly embarrassed and more than a little surprised by the response he'd gotten simply by walking into the room.

"Seriously, you've got to stop that." He moved through the office, weaving his way around the makeshift cubicles until he stood between Angela and Abigale. "When's the press conference?"

"In two hours. We're unpacking the buttons and posters now, and I'll have our volunteers passing them out to the crowd." Abigale consulted her clipboard making a note to herself.

"What crowd?"

Theresa smiled. "The one that will appear spontaneously everywhere you go."

"Appear spontaneously armed with 'Seaborn for Congress' signs?"

Angela chuckled. "Yeah. That's them. They're hard to miss."

Sam sighed. "When's the first speech scheduled?"

"Tomorrow. You're speaking to the League of Women Voters. Try to look good." Angela looked Sam up and down. "Uhnevermind. No special instructions necessary."

Sam laughed and looked around the room. "Where's Will?"

Angela gestured towards the back room. "He's on the phone with the League of Women Voters. Scott's with him."

Sam nodded, and headed down the corridor to Will's office hoping this time, he and Scott would see eye to eye. 

As Sam entered the office, Will was hanging up the phone. "Sam! I set it up! Your next photo op is going to be with Dwyer and Belford. Then, we've got a rally set up by the League of Women Voters. Sara Evans will be there and has agreed to endorse you"

"Wait a minute, Will. These photo ops and endorsementsThat's fine, but it's all you've scheduled. We need to reach the voters, the homeowners, the regular citizens."

"Sam, I know how you feel, but we need to make a good showing. We need to get your numbers up. This is the way to do it. You've been away from California for a long time"

"Granted, but I've been in Washington, not on Mars!"

Scott nodded. "I know the voters here. I know how they think. Wilde's winning was a fluke. If you want your numbers to look at all competitive, this is what we need to do."

Will turned from Scott and offered a conciliatory smile to this man who'd agreed to run in a seemingly hopeless congressional race. "Your numbers are nowhere right now. We have to concentrate on making you a serious competitor before we can bring out your issues."

Reluctantly, Sam nodded. "Okay. I'll give you this week. That's it. After that I have issues to talk about."

"We'll get to them." Scott promised sounding to Sam more and more like a salesman.

Sam listened as Will and Scott outlined their plans and commitments for the next few days, trying to dispel the feeling of dread in his stomach as he gave in to another of Scott's plans. This campaign wasn't working out like he'd expected.

**

****

The White House

December 2

Office of the Communications Director

CJ waited impatiently in Toby's office. Ginger had told her Toby had just stepped out for a moment. She'd been waiting for 5 minutes. She checked her watch again just as he walked in. "CJ, what do you need?"

"Didn't you tell me that Sam intends to make a statement soon about the crime rise in Orange County?"

"Yes."

"And isn't that statement supposed to propose additional funding for Neighborhood Watch groups, and a detailed plan for an increased hiring of police officers, better equipment for those officers, and a substantial pay raise for them?"

"You know it does. What are you going on about?"

She handed him several sheets of paper. "Carol just gave me this." She waited as he read.

"Webb said this? This exact thing?"

"He did. Sam's been snaked."

"Does he know?"

"They send a volunteer from the office to run down to the local mercantile to catch the 6:00 news on the only radio in the county. Of course he knows, Toby! He's in California, not Antarctica!" CJ glared at him, eyes flashing.

Toby sat and said nothing. He felt deflated. It was one thing sending Sam to be their sacrificial lamb in Orange County, but it was quite another to have his slim chance at winning sabotaged. "I'm calling Sam."

"I can't even spin this," CJ complained. "If Sam goes forward with his proposal after this, Webb is gonna spin it that Sam has no confidence in the State Police, which is absurd, but that's what he's gonna say. Then he'll accuse Sam of trying to raise taxes."

Toby was already on the phone. He spoke briefly and hung up. "They said he's out giving a speech. He'll call me later."

"I hope you have some kind of a plan by the time he does."

"So do I."

**

December 2

Office of the Chief of Staff

Leo had spoken to CJ and Toby about Sam's campaign. Toby said that Sam seemed to be dealing with it, but they all knew it was a blow. Sam could handle himself, but Leo hated to see him combating more betrayals. Someone on the inside had to have leaked his plan. There really wasn't any other explanation. 

Sam had a promising career in politics, but for him to have picked this particular race as his first, Sam was either very brave, or very idealistic. Leo knew he was both. He'd been pleased with the kid almost from the moment they met. It had been at Josh's house. He'd been visiting his old friend Noah Lyman. Josh had been home visiting and he'd brought his new friend Sam. Josh was trying to convince Sam to quit Princeton and try to get into Yale or Harvard. Sam had laughed and claimed to have gotten into Yale and Harvard, but he chose Princeton. It had quickly degenerated into a debate over which school was the best. 

  
Leo had only listened with half an ear Josh had gone too far, ridiculing most everything about Princeton and its alumni. Sam, having heard enough of Josh's admittedly asinine remarks, slammed his hand down on the table when Josh again interrupted the younger man's arguments. Having gotten everyone's attention, he launched into a heartfelt defense of a school that obviously meant a lot to him.

Josh had changed the subject, and, after that, Leo had always remembered Sam as the eloquent kid who shut Josh up. He'd been angry, and Leo now knew it wasn't a side of Sam that came up often. Josh had told him afterwards that Sam had a troublesome temper, but that he was doing his best to control it. In all the years he'd known Sam Seaborn, he could count on one hand the times he'd seen the younger man lose control, so he assumed the kid was doing a good job with the self control.

Suddenly gripped with a need to help, Leo picked up the phone and started making calls. He had old friends at the D-triple-C who might be able to keep an eye on things for him.

**

****

White House

December 5

Toby read through the lines he'd just written, hoping he would find, in reading them, what he had not felt in writing them. He reached the middle of the paragraph before giving up on the words. There was nothing there. They were words he'd used countless times, yet the held no life, no passion, no spark, no fire.

He tore the sheet from the legal pad and carefully struck a match. He watched the page burn, then placed it in his trash can where it lay atop the charred remains of at least a dozen similarly reviewed pages.

Toby Ziegler had been a writer most of his life. He'd dealt, as all writers had, with his share of writer's block. Generally, it lasted a while, and was gone, sometimes gradually, like erosion and sometimes instantaneously like a dam breaking. Why could he not shake it now? What was different about this?

A knock on his doorframe startled him, and he glanced down at the trashcan to be sure it hadn't flared up before checking to see who it was. "Bonnie?"

"Dropping off mail, Toby. It's a FedEx from Sam."

Toby nodded, standing, as Bonnie crossed into the room and passed the familiar package emblazoned with red and blue letters to him.

He wasted no time tearing it open curious as to what Sam would have to FedEx to him. When he read the short note, he honestly wasn't sure if he should be angry, happy, or relieved, so he managed a strange amalgamation of all three.

He checked his watch and picked up his phone.

**

****

Seaborn for Congress Campaign Office

Sam let the phone ring a few times as he finished the notes he was making. After the third ring, he picked up the phone. "Sam Seaborn."

"What are you doing?"

"Toby?"

"Of course, it's me. What are you doing?"

"This is a trick question, right? I'm talking to you on the phone." Sam heard a muttered curse, and the sound of a door closing. "Toby?"

"Sam, I appreciate what you're trying to do for me, but it stops now! You cannot write the Inauguration while trying to run for Congress. First, you don't have the time, and second, I'm not entirely sure it's legal, and third, you don't have the time!"

Sam thought about that. "Well, I can't run for office from the White House, but I can send my friend a few notes that I inadvertently took with me when I cleaned out my desk."

"You inadvertently took with you, a dozen pages on foreign aid, social security, and campaign finance reform?"

"You know how it is. I was in such a hurry." He knew Toby wouldn't be this angry if he didn't still need help. "Is it still bad?"

"It's.good." Toby ran a hand over his head, wondering when his deputy had gotten so good at reading him, and then he wondered how long he could call this man his deputy. "Thanks, Sam, but I mean it. If you do this again, I will tell the President and Leo right after I resign."

"You can't resign now. There's no one to replace you."

Toby sighed. "Yeah, but since I'm not really doing anything now, I don't think I'll be missed."

"Toby, this isn't permanent. It's normal." Sam recalled being in Toby's position. He remembered the desperation he'd felt struggling to write about education on Air Force One. He remembered Toby understanding it all, and doing what he could to help. He had only one last suggestion. "How about a walk?"

"A walk?" Toby wasn't sure he'd heard Sam.

"You know to 'get the blood flowing'. You never know where you might find inspiration."

"I've taken plenty of walks since this started."

"Maybe you should stop trying."

"To _walk_?"

"To _write._ You can't force it." 

Toby knew what Sam was trying to do, but it wasn't helping. "SamI can't do much of anything."

"Toby, you need to work through this. When did it start?"

"You know when it started! Before the State of the Union."

"So the pie wasn't really helping. Maybe you should lay off the sweets."

"I'm not laughing."

"Neither am I. Toby, you won't need to resign."

Toby changed the subject abruptly. "What's with you and Business?"

Sam sighed, and Toby could tell he wasn't the first to ask him this question. "I need to be more visible out here. The DNC needs me to keep their friends happy..."

"Why?" 

  
"Because I need the money."

"Didn't Amy send some people"

"It wasn't enough. Toby, this is California. Everything is expensive. You have to be willing to pay the price."

Toby didn't like the tone of Sam's voice anymore than he liked the younger man's choice of words. He seemed to be regurgitating words he didn't truly believe. His tone had shifted to one laced with the inevitability of defeat. "Samif you need a hand, I can"

Sam's laughter cut him off. "You can't! You have the Inauguration to write."

"I'm not actually writing much of it."

"I'm glad the rest of the speechwriting staff is picking up the slack,"

"I'm not talking about the rest of the staff, Mr. FedEx!" Toby tried to think of something more to say, but he was too tired to find a witty comeback. "I'm going back to work now."

"Call if you need anything, Toby."

Sam wasn't surprised by Toby's loud "No." 

**

****

December 10

The Oval Office

"So this is the same thing all over again! Leo, I swear" Jed Bartlet dropped the thought. He paced behind his desk in an uneven rhythm, stopping and waiting when the mood struck him, only to be urged into motion by the fury-fed impatience surging through him.

Leo sighed and exchanged glances with Fitzwallace. Fitz's latest intelligence report on the Lincoln Tunnel incident last month had given them no concrete evidence against the Qumari government. They couldn't prove Qumari involvement, but they knew they were behind it.

The President stopped pacing and stood in front of Fitz and Leo. "Why is it we never have the proof we need?"

"Because they're as good at this as we are. Sir, they can't prove things, we can't prove thingsthat's the way these things go."

"Are you saying we have to retaliate? Because, by God, Leo, if you are, I resign!"

Leo looked at Fitz. "Are you recommending retaliation?"

Fitz addressed the President. "At this time, we don't believe that would be the correct course, sir. We want to continue the surveillance we have in place and see if we can determine any future threat."

Bartlet nodded. "Do it. Fitz, make sure we don't let them get away with anything."

"Yes, sir."

**

December 12

The White House

Donna looked through the pages she'd typed. Reading them just made her blood boil all over again. She had started to compile these little reports just for herself and the assistants. It wasn't until Toby had read Bonnie's copy and asked to be added to the distribution list that things had snowballed. CJ wanted one, then Josh, then Leo. Soon, to her surprise, the President had insisted on being included.

It made her smile to remember how he'd done it. He's appeared at her desk one day. She hadn't been expecting him, since he had never really stopped at her desk. Gone by it on occasion, but actually stoppingno, that was unprecedented.

"Mr. President?" She had tried to mask her surprise and confusion.

He smiled at her and gestured for her to sit down again. "I hear you're keeping tabs on Sam."

She'd smiled at him. "I've been putting together the stories we get about him. From the wiresany mentions I can find of him or his opponent."

"Good work. Put me on your distribution list."

"Yes, sir!"

Now, as she Xeroxed the copies for the growing list of recipients, she realized how angry this latest batch of stories made her. She knew politics was sometimes a dirty game, but this was too much. She passed out the copies and, on Josh's added a post-it that said, "What are we going to do about this?"

She just hoped it wouldn't take him too long to answer.

**  
  
Toby pounded the keys of his laptop thinking maybe the sound, the rhythm of it, might inspire his brain to try to keep up. He wasn't typing anything truly good. Sometimes it was a few lines on education, and sometimes it was just the quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog.' Finally, frustration getting the better of him, he snapped the laptop shut. Staring at his notes, scribbled words that did nothing to organize his scattered thoughts, Toby wondered what had happened. How had he been reduced to inarticulate gestures, and occasional moments of coherency? 

It had started last year. When writing last year's State of the Union, the pie hadn't worked. Whenever he'd had writer's block before, a few pieces of pie normally helped. The President had heard the continued requests for pie and had presumed that it had gotten the job done. It hadn't. 

Sam had pulled last year's State of the Union out of the fire. He had managed, somehow, to sort through the things Toby wanted to write, and had actually written them. He hadn't complained. He hadn't prodded Toby or demanded that the Communications Director pull his weight, or made fun of his writing by demanding Toby use verbs or punctuation as Toby usually demanded of Sam. Instead, the younger man had rolled up his sleeves to the task at hand. He recalled Sam's favorite quote from Dickens. Toby thought it was from _David Copperfield_. The quote was so Sam. _Possibly we might even improve the world a little, if we got up early in the morning and took off our coats to the work._

Now, like the world, Toby's writing had not improved. The Inauguration was drawing steadily closer, and he had no talent. That was the only conclusion he could draw. His talent had dried up, or run away, or disappeared.

Bonnie walked in then, mercifully distracting Toby from his thoughts "Here's this morning's Sam memo." 

"Thanks." Toby reached out, taking it from her. "What's the package?"

She held out the FedEx box. "Another FedEx from Sam."

"From Sam?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, thanks."

Toby ignored the FedEx package, and instead used Donna's memo to divert him from the work he wasn't doing. He scanned the first few paragraphs before getting quickly to his feet, and rushing out the door.

**

****

Office of the Chief of Staff

Leo looked up as Toby and Josh collided in his doorway. "Can I help you?" The sarcasm dripped from his words.

It took a few moments for the two men to disentangle themselves, and Leo just sat back and enjoyed the show as each of them grew testier. Finally, they stood in front of Leo's desk still eyeing each other cautiously.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Leo asked, pointedly, his face clearly indicating he was anything but pleased at the way they had come to his office.

"Have you seen" Both Toby and Josh spoke at once, then stopped and glared at each other.

"I don't have time for this!" Leo looked at his deputy. "What?"

"Have you seen Donna's memo?"

Leo glanced at his desk. Not seeing the memo in his in box, he bellowed. "Margaret? Where's Donna's memo?"

  
Margaret was in the office before the question was halfway formed, and the paper was in Leo's hand with Margaret out the door again before he managed to finish. Josh stared after her, but Leo was right back to business. He scanned the memo. "Has the President seen this, yet?"

Josh shrugged. "I don't know. Probably. He gets one every day."

"Okay, but this last one here is going to"

"LEO!" Jed Bartlet's voice rumbled through the office.

Leo looked heavenward as if in supplication. "This is gonna distract him! This is really gonna distract him!"

The President walked into his Chief of Staff's office holding a badly crumpled piece of paper in his hands. Taking in the sight of three of his Senior Staffers, he picked up Leo's phone. "Charlie, call CJ and get her over to Leo's office, would you? Oh, and you might as well get Donna, too!" He hung up.

"What are we going to do about this?"

Toby waved the paper to get everyone's attention. "We need to respond if we're asked, but we can't just jump in"

  
"Jump into what?" CJ's voice preceded her into the office by a few seconds. Donna entered just behind her.

Toby waved his memo. "Did you read Donna's Daily?"

CJ nodded. "They're being rough on Sam. He's ready for them."

"Have you talked to him?" Josh asked.

"Not today, but I spoke to him awhile ago, and he pointed out that his opponent would likely be saying pretty much all of this stuff." She waved a hand in the general direction of Toby's memo.  


"CJ, has the press asked about it?" President Bartlet stared intently at CJ.

"No, sir, not yet, but I'm sure someone will bring it up."

Bartlet nodded, turning to Leo. "I want to respond to this. They can't call him my yes man' and get away with it! They can't really think he's just What did they call him?"

Donna quoted without looking at the memo. "An empty-headed, pretty-boy, Bartlet Yes man who doesn't have an original thought in his head."

"_That!_ By God, they can't seriously think"

"Why not? We kinda let them think that, don't we?" Josh hadn't realized he'd spoken out loud until all eyes turned on him. Bartlet's eyes were still wide and flushed with anger. Leo's were filled with a sort of acknowledgement that he'd heard the truth that he'd expected to hear. Toby's eyes were on the floor, and CJ's were puzzled. Donna, still unsure why she was there, had been ready to defend Sam until Josh's words stopped her.

"What do you mean by that?" Bartlet's tone was quiet but dangerous.

Josh glanced at Leo, who nodded almost imperceptibly. This was no time to keep the truth from the President.

"Sam'swe've always used him in the media because of his looks. He has a natural self-deprecating sense of humor. He's loyal to a fault. He has vehemently defended every policy of this administration, even if it went against his own beliefs."

"As a Senior Staffer, it's his job to support the President." Toby whispered to the floor.

"Yes! But Sam does nothing by half measures! The press knows that. His opposition knows that. We've let him take the fall too many times. For Kevin Khan's videotape, for the open-mikethe list goes on and on! Especially back before we won the White House! Yet when we need to put a pretty face on a bad situation, we send Sam to do the morning shows! If something falls apart, we blame Sam. If we don't want to hear his objections or his high ideals, we keep him out of the loop"

"Sam says he knew this was going to happen."

Josh whirled to face his assistant. "When did you speak to him?"

"This morning." Donna admitted. "We keep in touch. Like he told CJ, he already knew all of these things would become issues. He said he already knew how to respond."

"Did he tell you?"

Donna shook her head. "He said he was ready for it." She smiled at the memory. "It sounded to me like he might even enjoy it."

Toby laughed, a smile spreading quickly across his features. "That's my Sam!" he whispered to himself.

"Anything you want to share with the class?" President Bartlet sounded more that a little perturbed.

Toby shook his head. "No, sir."

Bartlet's eyes narrowed, but he let it go. "I want to respond to this nonsense. Especially this yes man' thing. The man sent me a five-page memo about Medicare after I assured him my decision was final! He's no yes man and the rest of that description was hogwash!"

"_Hogwash_?" Josh's eyes widened. "Where are we, Mayberry?"

"You heard me!"

"Yes, sir!" Josh sobered. "You're right, though, we need to respond"

Toby waved a hand, drawing everyone's attention. "I would love to back Sam up, but we have to keep our heads here. Too quick a response will seem as if they're right. Too vehement a response will convince them that we doth protest too much' so we had better be careful what we say."

"Toby, we can't just leave this to him!" Josh's voice rose as he spoke.

"He _can_ handle it, and, besides, it's not that I think we _shouldn't_ respond. I think we shouldn't respond _before_ Sam unless we're asked about it. In fact, the only reason for responding is if we're asked!"

CJ looked grim. "We'll be asked. I'll call Sam and see how he intends to respond."

President Bartlet stepped forward. "You do that, and ask him what he needs from us?"  


"Sir?"

"Ask him what he needs. Does he need any money"

Leo shook his head. "No, sir."

"No? What no? What do you mean no?"

"You can't give a personal donation to Sam's campaign."  


"Why the hell not?"

"How long have you been in politics?" Leo's voice rose giving an ironic lilt to his words.

Jed Bartlet knew what his best friend was saying, but he was mad. "Damn it, Leo! He deserves a chance!"

"You don't think he can win, do you?"

Bartlet looked around the room. "I don't think just any democrat could win the California 47th, but it wouldn't surprise me if Sam Seaborn did."

Leo allowed himself a slow smile. "Yeah. No surprises there."

**

****

December 12

Sam Seaborn Campaign Office

"What's the speech look like?" Sam yelled, wondering when he'd started to bellow for things. He stopped in midstep, and spun to the nearest volunteer. "Angela, when did I start bellowing for things?"

"A few minutes after you got here."

"Was I nice about it?"

"Nice? You want to know if you bellow nicely?"

"No. That's a stupiddo I?"

"Sam, you're stressed. No one minds."

"Oh."

"Really. We don't. And the final draft of the speech is on your desk with the changes you wanted in order to respond to some of the hits."

"I wouldn't call them hits."

"Your numbers took a little tumble there, so, yeah, they're hits."

"Blunt. You love being blunt."

"Love it or hate it, that's what I've got."

"You're a gem, Angela."

"Don't you forget it."  


"It's not like you'd let me."

"Not a chance." She smiled and returned to her desk to start answering the phones.

Abigale slammed his phone down. "We got it!"

Sam whirled to face his campaign manager. "The debate? He agreed?"

"He can't wait! He thinks you're gonna fold like a cheap suit."

"You gotta work on your metaphors."

"Later. We've gotta work on debate strategy."  


"When is it?"

"January 29."

"Why so late?"

"That's the only one of the dates he suggested that you're not already speaking somewhere."

"Did he know that?"

"What?"

"Did he know? Isn't my schedule pretty much public? Would he want this date for a reason?"

"I don't see why."

"Neither do I. Check on it, would you?"

Scott Holcombe entered the office frowning. "What's this about a debate? We can't debate!"

Angela's smile slipped, and she glanced towards Abigale, who almost imperceptibly shook her head willing her friend to hold onto her fraying temper. Reluctantly, Angela bit her tongue as Sam fielded Scott's question.

"The debate's set for January 29."

  
"We've gotta cancel it."

"Why?" Sam was puzzled, but he was more irritated. It seemed that every time he thought they were making any sort of progress Scott slammed them into reverse.

"Sam, we've been over this before. You can't do it. The people here don't share your values. A debate will help them to see that. Your numbers will plummet."

"I don't agree."

"I don't care."

Sam frowned now. "I'm doing this. You don't like it you can quit."

Scott backpedaled. "Okay. Okay. If you're so set on it, maybe we can work on some spin so you don't take too much of a hit."

Just then, Theresa approached with the morning paper. "Sam, I think you need to look at this." Webb's face looked back at them from the front page as the headline informed them that a new fiscal plan would raise salaries for those employed by the county. Sam tore into the paper and scanned the article. 

"How is he going to increase salaried and give out tax rebates? How is that possible?" He turned to Scott, fury on his face. "He's done it again! How is he doing this?" Sam looked desperately at Scott. "Where's our leak? How can Webb make exactly the statements time and again that would render my plans obsolete?"

Scott held out a hand for the paper, reading the story for himself. "I don't know Sam. Let me make some calls." He scurried down the hall as Sam yelled after him.

"That's what you said after the last leak! I want results Scott! This can't go on!"

Scott mumbled something about looking into it and retreated to his office.

"This can't go on." Sam whispered thinking the leak wasn't something Scott should have to make calls about. The leak was here in this office. As he stared after Scott, a coldness gripped him. Suddenly, he knew what he should do about this, and he knew he should do it alone. It would take some time, but he could unearth this leak himself. No need to ask Scott or Will to help. Will had been retreating more and more to his office anyway, and Scott was more likely to be on the phone or out of the office whenever Sam needed him. 

The calculating, suspicious piece of him hadn't seen the light of day in awhile, and now that Sam was giving in to it, he wondered if he'd be able to pull it back. He'd hate to be suspicious all the time. It was tiring.

Angela interrupted, holding out the phone. "Sam, it's CJ."

Sam reached for the phone. "CJ!" Pause. "You had a meeting about me?" Pause. "Well, tell him not to worry." Pause. "No, I guess that wouldn't sit well with the President. I don't really want to tell you." Pause. "NoI just don't want it to sound rehearsed." Pause. "Soon." Pause. "Any minute now." Pause. "Of course you can. I have no problem with that, providing you're asked about it." Pause. "Toby said that?" Pause. "That I could handle it myself?" Pause. "Of course _I_ think I can. I didn't think _he_ thought I could." Pause. "Yeah. Go ahead. I trust you. And, CJ, thanks." Pause. "I do?" Pause. "Well, it's been one of those daysOkay I won't tell you." Pause. "See, threatening physical violence doesn't work on opposite coasts." Pause. "It happened again." Pause. "No, I don't know. Scott's looking into it." Pause. "I will. I promise. I'll talk to you later."

He hung up just as Angela pointed to her phone. "Toby." 

Sam reached for the phone with a sigh.

**

To Be Continued


	8. Part 8

Non Sum Qualis Eram part 8

By Ecri

See Part One for Disclaimer and Spoilers.

****

Same Time

The White House

Toby's Office

"Sam!"

"And it's as if I never left!" Sam laughed into the phone.

"Why are you still sending"

"Great, you got it!"

"Sam, you have a campaign to win! Why are you writing"

"I found those pages. I must have accidentally packed them when I left The West Wing." Sam waited for Toby's response, but got only silence. "Toby? Are you still there?"

"Where else would I be? And that excuse is getting old!" 

"Toby, I know how you feel about this, but if I can help, you should let me. I know you're probably driving the rest of the speechwriting staff crazy right now. You won't let them help. You won't even let them know there's a problem. Let me."

"You have a campaign to win."

"I thought we all agreed I couldn't win."

"They all agreed you couldn't win. You and I agreed you should."

"Should and could are two completely different things."

"So are trying and doing, but you have to have the first to have the second."

"Are you saying I could win, I should win"

"I'm saying I have every confidence in your ability to make this something good."

"And I have every confidence that you can break through your block."

"Sam." 

Sam, startled by the fatigue and defeat he heard in Toby's voice, thought of the times he'd been plagued with writer's block and what had stimulated his talent. An idea dawned. "Toby, you know, I've been a little blocked myself lately."

"Not by the look of the pages you sent me."

"Well, yeah. It's funny, I can still write for the President, but I can't seem to write for myself. At first I was afraid I'd written for him for so long, that if I tried to give a speech of my own, it would sound like Bartlet Redux, nowI don't know. I guess I'll have to wing it."

"Wingdid you say _wing it_? As in ad lib? As in go in unprepared?"

"No, not unprepared. I'll still be briefed on the issues. I'll still have a general idea what I want to say"

Toby groaned. 

Sam bit his lip to keep from laughing. 

"Sam, when's your next speech?"

"Two days from now."

"What's it about?"

"I'm speaking at a rally. Mostly college kids. Don't worry about it. I have an outline."

"Fax it to me."

"My outline?"

"No, your laundry list. Of course, your outline!"

"Toby, there's no need. I know how busy you are with the Inauguration"

"Don't make me come over there and get it."  


"It's on its way."

"Good. I'll call you back later."

"Okay, andthanks."

"Oh, no. Don't thank me. I haven't even read it. BesidesI should be thanking you. The pages you've been FedExing arewell, some of the best you've ever written."

Sam smiled, surprised by his boss' words. "Thank you, Toby."

"I already told you. Don't thank me, yet."

**

The Next Day

The White House

Donna sat at her desk going through the newspaper looking for mentions of Sam Seaborn. Whenever there was a lull in her daily fetch and carry routine for Josh, she found herself doing this. She tried to tell herself she was just trying to get a little more information for her daily memo to the Staff and the President regarding Sam's campaign, but she was starting to suspect it was more that she missed him. She had never realized how she had looked forward to seeing him every day. His easy smile, his chivalrous attitude towards the assistants, his corny, old-fashioned vocabularyshe smiled now at the recollections. 

The memo had grown out of a mutual desire on the part of the assistants to know how Sam was doing. She'd broken down one day and called him on her own cell phone, not sure if she should be calling a Congressional Candidate from a White House phone. It had cost her $30, but she had learned that his campaign was going well, and that he'd been really glad to hear from her. She'd reported most of what they'd said to each other to the assistants, and soon, she'd started to share information she found while scanning headlines for Josh. The daily memo had caught too many eyes and soon the readership had grown to include the President. That was when she'd started double-checking the spelling.

She'd heard people refer to it as the Sam Memo, Donna's Sam Memo, Donna's Daily, the Sam Report, and once as The Sam. She didn't think Sam knew about it, and she was sure he'd be embarrassed if he did.

Still, as she paged through the paper, she wished there was something shethey, the rest of the staff could do to help him win his campaign. A headline caught her eye, and she reread it to be sure she hadn't misunderstood. Then she did a quick Google search. Sure enough it was there. CNN had it. There was even video. She groaned, just as Josh came out to her desk.

"Donna, I need Senatorwhat's wrong?" Josh interrupted himself when he saw the look on her face and connected it to the groan he'd just heard.

"The lead in my Sam Memo for tomorrowJosh, why can they get away with this kind of thing? I know we're on opposite sides, but shouldn't we be on the same sideyou knowThe _United_ States of America!"

"Woah, Donna, what? Tell me." Josh leaned in closer to her computer screen. She clicked on the video icon and they watched CNN's story together. Donna, sick to see how the "other" candidate in the California 47th was treating Sam, instead found herself watching Josh. He had stared at the screen in disbelief at first, then his face flushed red, and his voice tripled in volume. "There's no way they are saying this! They are NOT saying this!"

"Josh, calm down!"

"Call CJ."

"She's briefing."

Josh took her arm and pulled her into his office. He switched on the TV, watched as CJ's face coalesced out of the darkness.

**

"and so the President's remarks will be moved back to 3:30 PM. That's assuming that we leave here before that time." Soft chuckles floated through the pressroom. "That's all I have. Questions?"

CJ scanned the room already knowing who would have questions and which of those she would honor with answers. "Katie?" 

"CJ, has the President made any comments regarding Chuck Webb's comments that, and I am quoting" Here she paused and checked her notebook as if she hadn't already memorized the words. 

CJ waited almost laughing at the transparency of the move. The internal laughter was shocked into silence by the next words the newswoman uttered.

" Sam Seaborn is not only too inexperienced to adequately represent the ideals of the people of the California 47th, but he also has never had the trial by fire of serving in defense of this country in the armed forces. He's a pampered, white-collar, Ivy-League coward who would have crumbled under fire, and will surely crack under the pressures of holding a real position of leadership rather than merely being one of the many cogs in the ponderous machine of the Presidency.' "

Katie looked expectantly at CJ, who noted the glint of anticipation in her eyes. 

CJ stood straighter, bringing herself up to her full height, and squared her shoulders. Several reporters in the front row actually cringed, and slumped down in their seats moving slightly aside as if clearing a direct line of site.

"Katie, I haven't spoken to the President about this latestremark, and I am curious what Mr. Webb considers to be the appropriate and acceptable definition of bravery. Sam Seaborn is what you could call a hero of the moment. He does things that need doing. He expects no parades. He expects no thanks. He expects no recognition. If you happen to have the good fortune to call him your friend, he may even help you and then try to keep it a secret." Her hand unconsciously fingered her necklace. "He is a _gentleman_ and a _scholar_ and has the presence of mind to _act_ in a crisis without waiting for direction. As for anyone calling Sam Seaborn a coward, I can tell you this" She paused, waiting for the silence to get their attention, and, when each reporter was looking expectantly at her, she continued in a quiet, yet firm tone. "He saved my life in Rosslyn."

With no further comment, she spun on her heel and left the room, ignoring the calls for her attention.

She hadn't taken more than a few steps towards her office, when she found herself facing a grinning Josh Lyman with a breathless Donna Moss in tow. "That was perfect! That was wonderful!"

"I'm so glad it met with your approval." CJ kept walking, her tone indicating Josh's approval held little interest for her.

Josh followed. "CJ, we have to tell the President about this. He might get asked about it."

"I know that, Joshua. Carol!" She bellowed behind her, as her assistant scurried after her to catch up. 

"Yes, CJ?"

"Call Leo's office and find out if he has a minute."

**

The White House

The Residence

Later That Evening

Jed Bartlet wearily kicked off his shoes and sat, feeling older than his not insignificant years. It had been a more stressful day than he'd imagined when he'd first gotten out of bed that morning. 

On top of an already hectic day, and a ridiculously full schedule, Leo had briefed him on something CJ had said to the press. He'd been appalled that the Fourth Estate seemed compelled to search for reactions from his administration on every stupid word Chuck Webb uttered.

He'd known something had been up with Sam and CJ during the aftermath of Rosslyn, but he hadn't been told that he'd saved her life. Thinking again about what had happened that night, about Josh being shot and almost taken from him, he realized he hadn't allowed himself to dwell too much on who hadn't been shot, and how close it might have been. It could so easily have been several of them or all of them. It could so easily have ended with more of them dead than alive. As he thought about this, he realized that he not only almost lost Josh, but also almost lost CJ, Sam, and of course, Charlie had been the original target. It struck him as a very Sam-like way to dieacting like a Secret Service Agent and throwing himself in the path of oncoming bullets. 

He shook his head in disbelief. What had the boy been thinking?

Bartlet had called Ron Butterfield after Leo told him what CJ had said and, in answer to his myriad questions, he learned that CJ had indeed been in the path of a bullet. The expert analysts, whoever they were, had determined that CJ would have been killed by the bullet if Sam hadn't shoved her to the ground.

Jed had had the tape sent to his office along with an expert to show him what he was watching. Sure enough, in slow motion, he could see that the bullet would have hit CJ. He could also see that if Sam's timing had been slightly off, if he had tripped, a not unheard of possibility, or if Sam had hesitated, he might have saved CJ only to be killed or maimed himself.

  
The thought of losing Josh had been one of the things that had nearly driven Jed Bartlet from God. Now, faced with the idea that he might have lost another member of the family–or more–was enough to make him fall to his knees muttering prayers of gratitude and thanksgiving. 

CJ's life had come close to ending. He might not have ever had to look up at her again. He might have lost the chance forever to tease her, to watch her brief the press, to listen to her sing the Notre Dame fight song.

And Sam! The thought of never seeing Sam Seaborn againnot to see that smile, that hopeful expression and excitement when Sam hit on a good idea, the no-nonsense attitude he assumed when he spoke about law and legalities. Unbidden, memories of how the youngest member of his Senior Staff had reacted to news of Bartlet's own illness invaded his relieved thoughts.

Jed knew he hadn't done right by the young man, and he wanted to fix that. He picked up his phone and called Charlie. "Charlie, before you go, I want you to arrange a meeting first thing in the morning. Senior Staff, and I don't care what they have to shuffle to arrange it. Make it a breakfast meeting and notify the chef. Then get yourself home, Charlie. You've done enough for one day."

Abbey walked up behind her husband. "Jed, what are you planning?"

"Did you ever think about having sons, Abbey?"

Abbey Bartlet knew she should be surprised by the question, but she knew her husband well enough to know why he asked it. She smiled at him. "Jed, we had daughters. Three lovely daughters. I'd have loved to give you a son, but the Lord took care of that for me."

"You knew?"

"How you feel about Josh, Sam, and Charlie? You aren't that good at hiding how you feel, Jed. Those three mean a lot to you. I know that." She narrowed her eyes as she watched him. "What is it you're planning?"

"I want Sam to win."

  
"I thought you all expected to get him back here in a few months."

"I'd love to have him back, but I think that expectation is taking the wind from his sails. Sam should be in Congress. He needs to start worrying about his future. I would like to vote him into _this_ office someday."

"So, tomorrow's breakfast"

"is the first step toward making that a reality."

"Is this about the yes-man thing?"

"It's that. It's calling him a coward because he never served in the armed forces." He paused and looked away, and Abbey knew they were getting to the real problem. "It's something Josh said about how we let Sam take the fall. We let him publicly take the blame if something goes wronglike the open mikebut when we need a pretty face on the morning shows or an answer to a legal question we go to him."

Abbey nodded again. "Jed, Sam is good on the morning shows. He knows it. He never minded doing it. And he's a brilliant lawyer. He'd probably be offended if we didn't turn to him from time to time."

"I know. I know. He is good at it. You know, his campaign is going better than we thought it would. His numbers are still low, but not as low as they should be in the California 47th." He leaned back tiredly, and Abbey took his hand. "Did I ever tell you that I told Sam he'd run for President one day?"

She looked at him in surprise. "No. When did you do that?"

"The night I gave him the chess set, and we played. I told him I believed in him."

"That's good, Jed. I can see him as President." She shook of thoughts of the future and came back to the present. "So this is really about Sam's political career. You want him to win."

"I don't want him to lose. It could ruin his career, but"

"What?"

"But I still need him. He's one of the best speechwriters in the country. I don't want him to go. I'm not ready."

"That's what you said when Ellie went away to college. Jed, it's okay."

"If he loses, how will he run again?"

"He may not lose."

Jed smiled sadly, " Ah, but if he wins, how do I let him go?"

She returned his smile. "You won't. You'll follow his career closely. You'll always give a little more weight than you should to his position on issues, and you'll invite him to all the parties we have at the White House."

"Yeah. I could do that."

"Besides, I've known Sam Seaborn for awhile. If he wins, no one will think he's your yes-man for very long."

Jed laughed, knowing that, once again, his wife was right.

**

  
**The Next Day**

The President's Dining Room

6:47 AM

Josh wondered how all of this had happened. He was glad the President was behind Sam's campaign, but Josh didn't enjoy the thought of Sam not working in the West Wing any longer. He knew Sam didn't quite trust him. Sam wasn't as sure of their friendship as he wasor maybe it was just that he had taken his friendship with Sam for granted. Regardless, he couldn't come up with a way to prove he was still there for Sam. He had tried sending Sam information and hints about how to win the election, but Sam had told him to cut it out. He could still remember their conversation. 

"Josh, you have to cut it out."

"I think this could really help. You need to listen"

"No! Josh" 

Josh heard Sam take a deep breath to calm himself, and wished, not for the first time, that the two of them were face to face rather than on opposite coasts.

"Josh, this is a gray area. You aren't working for me. You work for the President. You can't help."

"Like you can't help Toby?"

Sam hesitated as if unsure how to respond. "What do you mean?"

"All those FedExes? That's gotta be something, Sam."

Sam had refused to say what he was doing for Toby, and he'd changed the subject rather than confirm any of Josh's speculation. 

Now, the White House Deputy Chief of Staff looked around the President's breakfast table wondering how many of them had offered to help Sam and been turned down.

"So, that's what we're gonna do. CJ, we're going just before the election. I want lots of photo ops. I want to spin everything we can spin to make it work for him." 

The President scooped up a forkful of egg as he spoke, but Toby's comments kept him from eating it.

Toby leaned toward the President. "Sir, I appreciateand I'm sure Sam will appreciate what you're planning, but we need to be cautious."

"Why?"

"If you endorse him too vehemently, you may have the opposite effect that you intend."

"You're saying people will vote against him because they hate me."

"Noyes, sir, that's what I'm saying. You're approval rating is middle-of-the-road–hovering right at 50%. We've done polls in Orange County, and it wavers there between 45% and 50% depending on the issue. We don't know how much will translate to support for Sam that he doesn't all ready have."

Bartlet looked at Leo. "You think he's right?"

"Well, it's possible, sir. Maybe we can do a poll."

"You want to ask people how they would react to a presidential endorsement?"

Josh, who had barely touched his own omelet, interrupted. "We don't need to do that, sir. If we go in and endorse him as you would any other democratic candidate, we could probably find a way to let the voters there know that Sam is still his own man. That he won't blindly follow your every lead."

"That's good, because we'd hate to have people think he supports his President."

"That's not what I meant."

Bartlet waved away Josh's comment. "I know, Josh, I know. Okay, so we plan a trip just before the election. Does anyone have anything else on his campaign? What do his numbers look like?"

"His numbers are a little lower than they should be. Will Bailey has him with Business."

"Why?"

CJ interrupted before Toby could reply. "According to Sam, Will's PR guy keeps telling him he can't win, so he can't cost the DNC its support."

"His PR man is telling him he can't win?"

CJ nodded. "Yes, sir."

"This is the same guy who insisted a dead man could win?"

"Apparently."

"When did you talk to him?"

She glanced down at her plate of half-eaten French Toast, and ran a fork through a puddle of syrup. She and Sam had last talked about her court case, and it still made her uncomfortable. Forcing herself to put down her fork, she raised her eyes to meet the President's. "Two days ago. I try to speak to him at least once a week. Sometimes we play phone tag for days, but I can usually keep to the schedule."

Bartlet nodded. "Josh, how busy are you?"

"I've got a full day of meetings, sir."

"I mean long term."

"He's too busy for what you're thinking, sir." Leo glared at his old friend.

"And how do you know what I'm thinking?"

Leo ignored the question and turned to Toby. "I imagine you're tied up with the Inauguration speech."

"You could say that." Toby ran a hand over his head, wishing the speech were finished.

Jed nodded. "Okay. I want each of you to monitor his campaign and offer suggestions when you can. Josh, call Will and talk some sense into him and his staff. Now, is there anyone here who can go to California and help Sam?"

Toby cleared his throat, but CJ answered the question. "I'm sure Toby would love to do that, sir."

Bartlet looked from CJ to Toby. He made an instantaneous decision. "Toby, when the speech is finished, I'm going to want you to take a leave of absence and head to California."

Toby nodded. The thought had occurred to him, but he hadn't been confident enough about his abilities lately to think he could do Sam any good.

"CJ, whenever the press asks about Sam's campaign, you make sure they understand that this administration is behind him 100%."

A chorus of yes sirs did wonders for Jed's demeanor. "Good! Now, let's eat and get to work." President Bartlet once again attacked his eggs.

**

****

Several Hours Later

The Oval Office

President Bartlet stared across the room at his Vice President. "I'm going to be visiting California just before the election. Why do you want to go now?"

"I know you may find this hard to believe Mr. President, but I like Seaborn. I think I might be able to help."

"And"

John Hoynes smiled. "I have my own reasons for being interested in Seaborn's career."

Bartlet stared at his Vice President as he tried to interpret what he'd just heard. "I'm sure you do. I have no problems with you helping Sam's campaign, but I didn't ask you to stop by to discuss the California 47th. I need you to attend an embassy party on December 18."

"What Embassy?"

"Lord John Marbury is throwing some kind of a bash for some reason I can't recall, and I can't attend. His office told Leo they were sending an invitation to you, and that they needed either you or me to attend. They were adamant about it. Since I can't"

"I have to."

Bartlet grinned. "Essentially."

"All right. I'll go. No problem. I'll be calling Seaborn to coordinate my visit, as well."

"Fine. I'll be down there late January or early February, so let's try to do him as much good as we can."

"Absolutely."

"Have you heard what Webb is saying about Sam?"

"I heard about CJ's press conference, and I do get Donna's Daily memo."

"CJ handled that well, didn't she? They've been running footage of Rosslyn on CNN. Sam in slow motion! He's been hailed a hero."

"Did you hear what he said about it?"

"About the tape or about being a hero?"

"About being a hero. He said he doesn't understand the fuss. He did what he had to do, and was sure anyone else would have done the same."

"I knew he'd downplay it."

"What can he do? Stand up and yell, yes, I'm brave, vote for me.'"

"Yeah, you're right. Let's help him win."

"That's always been my intention, sir."

**

****

December 14

Sam Seaborn Campaign Headquarters

Sam reread what Toby had faxed to him. The words rolled smoothly, expressively off his tongue as he tried them on for size, reminding him why Toby Ziegler was his favorite writer.

He picked up the phone and dialed. Ginger kept him on for several minutes pumping him for information on the campaign. He laughed as he gave it to her, and soon she put him through to Toby.

"Yeah, Sam, what is it?"

"What a cordial greeting, Toby!"

"Get off my back. What do you want?"

"You're sounding more yourself."

"Sam"

"I got the fax. This is a great speech. Can I assume you got your swing back?"

"What makes you think I wrote it? Maybe I gave it to the rest of the staff."

"This had your fingerprints all over it." He paused a moment, and resumed in a quieter, more personal tone. "Thanks, Toby. This is a big help."

"It was a big help for me, too. It's absurd. I've been desperate to write something half that good for the President, and I can't do it. Somehow, this was easier."

"Sure it was easier. Less pressure, switching voices. You didn't have to write for The President of the United States. This was just for me."

"You already had a speech written, didn't you? You were never going to wing it."

Sam smiled, and Toby could hear it in his voice. "Yours is better."

"Why, Sam?"

"Because it's got a better flow, and some very powerful verbs"

"I mean why did you fax me an outline for a speech you'd already written?"  


"I had a feeling it would help you."

  
"And if it hadn't?"

"See, the good thing about having things work according to plan is that you don't have to come up with alternative plans."

"I guess so."

"So, are you writing now? Is the Inauguration coming along?"

"Thanks to you and the pages you keep finding', and some pages from the rest of the speechwriting staff, and this ploy of yours, we might actually finish it in time."

"So you're writing?"

"I did 40 pages last night."

"That's great, Toby!"

"Yeah, it is. Listen, how's the campaign going?"

"Ask Ginger. She pumped me before she put my call through."

"Ah. That's how the assistants always know everything first."

"That and they're smarter than we are."

"Yeah. I always forget that part."

**

To Be Continued


	9. part 9

Non Sum Qualis Eram part 9

By Ecri

See Part One for Disclaimer and Spoilers.

****

December 18

9:30 PM

Vice President John Hoynes accepted the glass of ginger ale, nodding his thanks to the bartender. His wife, dressed in a stunning ice-blue ball gown, took his arm as they walked through the embassy ballroom.

"Mr. Vice President!"

The distinctly British voice easily cut through the polite conversation that filled the room. John Hoynes turned holding out his hand to Lord Marbury.

"It is so wonderful of you to come, Mr. Vice President, and your lovely wife" he turned to look at the glowing woman. "My, what magnificent br"

"Lord Marbury! " Hoynes interrupted. "You have a full house. It seems every ambassador in Washington is here."

"Yes, yes. We are rather pleased at the turnout." 

As they talked about nothing in particular, Hoynes noticed Marbury's eyes darting about the room. Finally, he leaned towards Hoynes and said softly, "A word, when you have a moment, Mr. Vice President."

Curious, Hoynes nodded, excusing himself from his wife's side, he followed Marbury, who spoke loudly of a recent visit to Texas, and was asking Hoynes detailed questions about his home state. Explaining he had purchased an antique cavalry sword and would like the Vice President's opinion, Marbury led Hoynes to his private office. Once inside, Hoynes Secret Service detail split up, one accompanying Hoynes and Marbury and one remaining just outside the closed door.

The office was occupied when they entered by an average looking man in an average looking suit. Nondescript was the best word to describe him. He caught Marbury's eye, nodded slightly and exited by a second door. 

Marbury waited until he had gone, and then gestured for Hoynes to take a seat. The Vice President did so, noticing that Marbury's drunken demeanor had vanished. His eyes, slightly glazed in the ballroom, were now clear and focused. Hoynes waited for the Ambassador to explain, his only reaction being a slightly raised eyebrow.

"Thank you for indulging me, Mr. Vice President, and allow me to say, I would not resort to such clandestine chicanery if it were neither necessary," He leaned slightly toward the Vice President as he seated himself. "Norso unofficial."

Hoynes nodded. "I understand, Lord Marbury."

"Please, it's Johnthis is, as I said, _unofficial_, Mr. Vice President."

"John," Hoynes corrected gesturing to himself.

Marbury smiled. "Well, John, then, off the record, I have to tell you a few things."

"By all meansoff the record."

**

****

Oval Office

December 19

12:23 AM

Jed Bartlet stood in the middle of the Oval Office swearing. Wearing a sweatshirt, which one could only intuit had Notre Dame emblazoned on it once long ago by the placement of a few ghostly letters, the Commander in Chief was nevertheless imposing and implacable in his outrage.

"Is that exactly what they said?" He stared at his Vice President, who still wore his tuxedo, having come to the White House directly from the Embassy party.

"I can only say that it's what Lord Marbury says that they said." John Hoynes looked around the room at the impromptu gathering. Ron Butterfield and Leo McGarry still managed to look as though it were just after noon rather than just after midnight, in suits, ties, and jackets. He himself, was of course, quite formally dressed. The presence of Admiral Fitzwallace, in full uniform, had surprised Hoynes when he'd first arrived, since he'd called from the car and hadn't thought there'd been enough time to alert the Admiral.

Pacing in front of his desk, Bartlet looked from Fitzwallace to Leo McGarry. Hoynes had the distinct impression that something was going on that no one had bothered to tell him.

Fitzwallace stepped forward. "Pardon me, Mr. Vice President, but did Lord Marbury say where his government got this information?"

Hoynes slipped his hands in his pockets and stood staring at the Admiral a moment before replying. "Actually, he was adamant that this was something he personally stumbled upon. He said he didn't want his government to be involved. He insisted it was unofficial and off the record. All he would say was that, as a friend of the United States, he could not stand by and simply assume that veiled threats made against us would not be carried out."  


Fitzwallace nodded. "Did he name his source?"

"He said that the Qumari Ambassador's Chief of Staff had seemed agitated before leaving the country. He'd been recalled. The theory in the ambassadorial circles was that he disagreed on some major political decision the Qumari government had made. Marbury later learned the man had died in a car crash right after returning to his country."

Leo let out a whistle of surprise. 

Jed turned to face him. "Can we believe that?" He looked again to Fitzwallace. "Is there anything for them to gain by lying about this?"  


Fitzwallace considered the question. "Any disinformation is good for them, but I don't know what they would specifically gain by this."

  
Jed turned to Butterfield. "Ron, can we take this as a serious threat?"

Butterfield nodded. "Any time information like this comes into the White House, especially through ambassadors and the Vice President, we have to take it seriously."

"Yes, but how seriously?" Jed insisted, not letting go of the question.

Hoynes watched the foursome before him feeling like a spectator at a mixed doubles tennis match. He was sure he didn't have all of the pertinent information, so he decided to wait it out and see if they decided to bring him inside.

Finally, Jed sat down, gesturing for Hoynes to take a seat on the sofa to his right. "John, can you tell us again what he said?"

Hoynes nodded. "Would you like to get a tape recorder?"

"We have one, sir." Ron Butterfield claimed.

Hoynes looked around pointedly, but when the Secret Service agent didn't feel inclined to point it out, he turned his attention back to the President. "Lord Marbury asked me into his study to show me an antique cavalry sword he'd bought. Once inside, he told me he had information that was 'unofficial' and 'off the record'. He then told me that the Qumari Ambassador's Chief of Staff had informed him that, if he were President of the United States, he would be very concerned about safety."

"The President's safety?" Leo's concern for his friend was probably only slightly magnified by the fact that his friend was the President of the United States.

"He didn't specify. He said that in Qumar, the palace guards are trained to protect by any means necessary. Marbury said that he claimed that they trained to make death both gruesome and painful, and that they were equally at home killing face to face or faceless thousands."

"Did he say that specifically?" Butterfield asked for clarification. "Did he actually say 'at home'?"

"Yes. Is it important?"

Butterfield shrugged. "Maybe. It could have been a turn of phrase, or it could have been a way of indicating that the President wouldn't be safe at home."

"At home in this country, in the White House, or in Manchester?" Bartlet did not try to disguise his anger.

Butterfield shifted slightly. "I have no way of being certain, sir. I suggest we double security for you, your family, and for the Vice President and his family."

Bartlet glanced at Hoynes, who was merely watching him and waiting. "Okay. Whatever you need to do. Ron, I won't allow anyone else to be hurt or killed."

Butterfield had already known how his president would react to a threat like this.

Admiral Fitzwallace had more to add. "Mr. President, I suggest we bring the CIA in on this. Maybe the right operativesor Black Opscan find some concrete information."

Jed glanced at Leo, but turned back to Fitz without giving voice to his questions. "Do it. Is that all we need?" When Butterfield and Fitzwallace admitted they had all they could gather from the Vice President's information, Jed dismissed them. 

Hoynes watched the men go, then turned to find Jed staring at him looking sad, mad, and worried all at the same time. "Is there anything you need to tell me, Mr. President?"

Jed shook his head. "No, John. You're going to be the next President, and if my presidency blows up in my face, I don't want it taking you out, too."

Hoynes nodded, and, as he left, he realized that the President's words weren't the least bit comforting.

**

****

Sam Seaborn's Apartment

Orange County

Sam threw his briefcase to the floor as he closed the door. It had been a long day. Another statement Webb had given had mercilessly come down against one of Sam's soon to be made announcements. He'd come down hard on what he called the democratic propensity for hyperbole when describing a future under GOP leadership.

In truth, Sam's next speech was dedicated to painting a picture of the things that the GOP had done wrong. If he gave it now, it would seem silly. He would have to wait, judge the political climate, and maybe give it next month if at all.

That someone in his office was behind this was obvious. Who it could be was less so. Scott and Will had tried to trace the leak, but they'd had no success.

Facing this kind of betrayal made Sam wonder why he ever had gotten into politics.

  
He sat heavily on the sofa and clicked on the TV. Local stations were still predicting he'd lose, and his numbers were definitely dropping. He switched to CNN, and pulled out a file he'd been working on earlier for the Inauguration. Toby's block was finally broken, but time was running short, and he knew that, should the White House Director of Communications find a perfectly workable draft of the very pages he needed staring him in the face, he was hardly in a position to toss them in the shredder.

He'd been working maybe half an hour when something on the television caught his attention. This couldn't be good.

**

****

Campaign Speech

Orange County, CA

"You've all heard the campaign promises before." Sam reminded his audience. "By now, you know what each candidate is promising, probably better than we do!" A small wave of light laughter moved through the crowd. "All I can tell you is that my goal is to be your voice. I want to make a difference. Together, we can do that. Thank you." Sam stepped back, waving at the crowd, and moving off the stage.

Will caught up to him as he moved through the crowd. "We gotta get back to HQ."

Sam felt his mouth quirk upwards wanting to grin. "HQ? Who are you, Maxwell Smart?"

"Seriously, I have some things to go over with you at headquarters."

"Headquarters?" 

Elsie appeared on his left.. 

Sam turned to her. "Did you need something, Agent 99?"

Elsie looked at Will, but when he just shrugged, she decided to ignore them both. "Angela called from HQ. She said you've had a call from the White House."

"HQ? Yeah. Is KAOS threatening the free world again?"

She stared at him blankly, until Sam relented realizing there was every chance she had never seen _Get Smart_. Not prepared to face that kind of generation gap, he got back to business. "Who was it?"

  
"She didn't say."

Sam pulled out his phone and hit his speed dial and waited for an answer. "Angela? Who called?" Pause. "He did?" Pause. "No, that's okay, I'll return the call myself. Thanks, Angela." He hung up.

Hitting another button, he was soon connected to the White House. "May I speak to the Vice President, please? It's Sam Seaborn returning his call."

Elsie and Will exchanged surprised glances.

"Mr. Vice President? Sam Seaborn."

"Sam!" Hoynes hadn't expected Sam's office to track him down so quickly. "How's the campaign going?"

"Not bad, Sir. I've given some well received speeches."

"You're being modest, Sam. I heard your numbers are scaring the GOP."

  
Sam laughed. "I think they're a little higher than anyone expected, but I don't think the Republicans are losing sleep over it."

Hoynes disagreed, buy he didn't say so. He'd taken a more active interest in Sam's activities since that night he'd found the younger man standing in the rain outside the White House. It had been that night that Hoynes had realized that, if there were an honest politician in Washington, it was Sam Seaborn. "I wanted to talk to you about a trip I'm taking out to your neck of the woods."

Sam sat up straighter, surprised. "You're coming out here, Sir?"

"Yes, and I wanted to coordinate my schedule with yours. When's your next public appearance after Christmas?"

"The 26th. We're having a dinner with the Save Our Beaches Organization."

"Okay. I think I can attend, if there's room for me."

Sam smiled and gave Will and Elsie a thumb's up so they'd stop looking at him with such apprehension on their faces. "I think we can arrange that, Mr. Vice President."

"Good, Sam. We're all proud of you, you know. We're looking for a win."

"Yes, sir. I'll do my best not to disappoint."

"I'm sure you will. I'll have my secretary talk to yours, and you might get a call from my Secret Service Detail."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Samgood job," Hoynes added just before he hung up.

Sam looked at his Campaign manager. "The SOBO dinner just got an extra guest."

Will smiled, incredulous. Things were going well.

**

Seaborn for Congress Campaign Office

Sam glanced out the window and was slightly startled at the sight of the vivid blue sky, the palm trees waving so slightly in the breeze and the sight of people walking around without coats. For a moment, he'd been so engrossed in his work that he'd forgotten which coast he was on. He vehemently wished the campaign were over. He missed Washington more than he should have, and he longed for a more permanent, less transient existence. He'd loved campaigning with then Governor Bartlet, but now wondered if that wasn't some strange wanderlust. He wasn't having nearly the same good time on this campaign.

He glanced at the schedule of events Scott had lined up, and struggled not to groan. The public appearances wouldn't do much for him. He felt like he was running for student body president and was campaigning at the wrong high school. Frustrated, he balled up the sheet of paper and threw it on his desk.

  
He stood, picked up the wad of paper and walked to his office door, and stopped the first volunteer he saw. "Karly, have you seen Scott?"

Karly shook her head. "Sorry. I don't know where he is."

"Okay. No problem." He left his office heading for Scott's, but the man wasn't at his desk. Checking the next office he saw Will handing a stack of files to Jesse. "Hey, Jesse," He greeted her cordially, pleased people were finally comfortable enough around him to treat him as a real person. 

"Hi, Sam." She moved to allow him access to Will's desk then slipped out of the office leaving the two alone.

"Will, have you seen Scott?"

"He should be back soon. He was meeting with some reporters to set up the coverage for the Vice President's visit."

Sam nodded. "Have you seen his updated schedule for after Vice President Hoynes leaves?"

Will narrowed his gaze, brow creasing. "No. He should have copied me on that."

Sam tossed his crumpled copy to his campaign director. 

Will caught it and glanced up at Sam. "I guess I don't have to ask how you feel about it."

"Will, are we serious about this campaign?"

"Of course we are."

"So I'm not a sacrificial lamb? We want me to have this seat?"

"Of course we do."

"If we mean business, we have to act like it. I shouldn't be making these appearances. I have to be aggressive if we're going to bring the numbers up."

"What do you suggest?"

"What's the number one issue in the country?"

"That depends on who you ask."

"My big issues, then?" Sam waited what he thought was a reasonable amount of time for the Will to answer, and when he didn't, Sam had a sobering thought. "Will, do you even know my issues?"

The question seemed to jumpstart Will's brain, and he began to ramble. "Education, privacy, the environment"

Sam waved at him to stop. "Can't I campaign on those things?"

"Well, how are we going to make much of an issue of privacy?"

"Privacy is an issue all on it's own, Will. That's why people have passwords on their computers. That's why people put fences around their property, and why a sad, strange bunch grow their hedges to be 12 feet tall. We haven't made much of _any_ issue. Surely we can put our heads together on this."

"Sam, I don't even know how I let you talk me into staying here. I told you I'm burned out."

"You did. But it was your sister who talked you into staying."

"Oh. Okay, then."

Sam stared long and hard at the man who had gotten him into this mess. Will squirmed at the intensity of the other man's gaze. 

"Will, we need to address issues or I don't know what I'm doing here. Look, we have a lot of work to do. My numbers aren't going anywhere and I don't think they'll get very far with these appearances you and Scott have lined up."

"How so?"

"I need to do something to bring this around to issues rather than character."

"The character thing helped! It's only because of what CJ said about Rosslyn that your numbers rebounded to begin with."

"I won't campaign on what happened at Rosslyn."

"Why not?" When Sam glared at him, he held up his hands as if in surrender. "Look, we've got the Vice President coming. Why don't we hold off on any major changes until then." 

Sam hated to put this off, but he knew he was already committed to these appearances. It wouldn't do his campaign any good to cancel now.

With a palpable reluctance, Sam nodded. "Okay. We'll revisit this after the New Year."

Sam headed back to his office, wondering who in his staff was really behind him.

**

****

December 23

The White House 

Press Room

5:45 PM

"and that's all I have right now."

CJ wrapped up the briefing with her usual aplomb, though some reporters still seemed to want her attention. She ignored them all. As she stepped through the doorway, Carol came running up to her.

"CJ" Together, the two women moved down the festively festooned hallway.

"Carol! Remind me to bring the fruitcake and egg nog to the next briefing."

"CJ, Ron Butterfield is in your office. He wants to talk to you." Carol looked almost apologetic.

CJ stopped walking, her face a shade paler than it had been before. "Of coof course he wants to talk to me. Why else would he be in my office?" She resumed walking, bringing her emotions under control with each step. It had to be about the trial. Something must have happened. They postponed it. They moved it up. Without conscious thought, she slowed her steps as she neared her office. Giving herself a mental shake, she quickened her pace and walked in as though she didn't have a care in the world.

"Ron, what can I do for you?"

"CJ." Ron stepped aside, letting her cross the room to her desk. She stood behind it, and faced him. He knew she'd want to get this over with as soon as possible. "About two hours ago" He paused remembering suddenly that Simon had told him that CJ didn't want to use her stalker's name. He sighed, feeling ridiculous skimming around a fact, but feeling it was the least he could do for her. "The stalker killed himself in his cell."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"He's dead, CJ. He killed himself. There will be no trial."

"Isee." She didn't really understand. Her stalker had"He killed himself. How did hewouldn't he be kept from" She held up a hand to forestall the answers she'd just requested. "No, never mind. I don't need to know that." Relief flooded her system making her knees suddenly weak. Stubbornly, she clenched them together, and rested a hand on the desktop. "It's over."

Ron smiled for the first time since walking into the room. "Yes, it is."

As he walked out the door, CJ sat down feeling a numb sort of relief.

**

  
**December 23**

The White House

One thought raced through Leo McGarry's mind as he searched the West Wing. What a Christmas this was turning into. Between his and the President's guilt trips spilling onto Josh, which spilled onto Donna, CJ's news about her stalker being dead, Toby walking around yellingokay, maybe that wasn't so different than usual. He'd be relieved when he and the President finally sat down to Christmas dinner together in Manchester.

Leo finally found who he was looking for. Donna was just arriving at her desk, a stack of file folders in her arms that threatened to snap the legs clear off the thing. He moved next to her and helped her balance the pile in the middle of the desk. "Donna, we got it covered. You can go."

  
Donna looked up at him, confusion all over her face. "Josh said"

"I know what Josh said. I spoke to the President, and we're putting infant mortality and churches off until after the first. You had plans, didn't you?"

  
She smiled a shy smile. "Well, yes, but I don't know if I can get there before tomorrow. It's late."

"It's the Inn, right?" Leo waited for her nod. "I think we can still get you there. Let me make some phone calls. Get your stuff together."

She nodded again, but Leo had already turned towards his office. She checked her bags where they were still stashed by her desk. It looked like she was going after all. She picked up her phone and called Jack. By the time she explained it all, Leo was back. She put Jack on hold.

"I got you hooked up with a news helicopter that's landing about two miles away. Can you get a ride from there?"

"Sure, yeah! Thank you so much, Leo!" 

He handed her a slip of paper. "This is were you gotta be and where you're gonna land. Go. Have a good Christmas."

  
"You, too. Merry Christmas!"

He laughed at her exuberance and walked away. She was a good girl, Donnatella Moss. Mrs. Landingham had told him that once, so he had started to pay attention. The old broad was right. Donna had a future. She was smart, pretty, and more loyal than almost anyone Leo had ever met, with the possible exception of Sam Seaborn. It wouldn't surprise him if she ended up with his job one day.

**

Donna sat in the cab, racing to the rendezvous that would bring her that much closer to what was becoming her first real relationship in too many years. She considered it a sad reflection of what her personal life had become when just a few dates constituted a relationship. 

Jack Reese was funny and charming. He had convictions. He had ideals. He was a fair-minded man who was willing to trust people when they told him strange stories about swapping votes. She was thrilled to be getting a few days with him. Who are you trying to convince, Donnatella Moss? She asked herself the question not for the first time. Jack was a sweet guy, but her thoughts lately were on someone elsesomeone a lot closer to The White House.

  
She forced the thoughts from her mind. She was going to enjoy this Christmas. It was going to be perfect–boyfriend by her side in a quiet, beautiful inn, and her job miles away. Her thoughts, on the other hand, were obviously going wherever they pleased. 

**

To Be Continued


	10. part 10

Non Sum Qualis Eram part 10

By Ecri

See Part One for Disclaimer and Spoilers.

****

December 24

The White House

CJ Cregg's Office

9:42 AM EST

CJ Cregg had never in her life simply not known how she should feel. She stared at her computer, but didn't see anything on the screen. Her hand rested on the desktop, but she didn't even notice what documents she was crumbling in her hand. She'd come in early hoping to get a jump on the last minute things that always seemed to keep her late on Holidays, but the morning had already gotten away from her. It wasn't that she had too much to do. In truth, it was that she kept slipping into a kind of numbness, and sort of waking up from it moments later, not even sure what she'd been doing when it happened.

Her phone rang, and she jumped, her heart racing at the sudden break in the unusual quiet of both her office and her thoughts. "CJ Cregg." She'd answered from habit, and for a moment she worried that she should have asked Carol to screen her calls, but just for a moment.

"CJ, it's Sam."

"Sam! How are you?" She glanced at her watch. "A bit early for you, isn't it?"

"You know I work best early in the morning."

She actually snorted, grateful that Sam was the only one to hear it. "I know you most likely haven't been home yet, Spanky." She felt infinitely better than she had moments ago. Sam's calls had that effect on her. _Sam_ had that effect on her.

Sam's laugh eased her tension another notch. "Well, old habits die hard. Of course, I miss Toby's couch!" He sat back in his office chair grimacing at the squeak it made and at the stiffness in his back. The laughter subsided quickly, and the smile faded from Sam's voice. "I didn't really call just to catch up." 

"Of course not. How did you hear?"

"I havesources."

"Out with it, Spanky."

"I was on Ron Butterfield's contact sheet."

"Samyou didn't have to. I expected you to drop it when you had to start your campaign."

"I wouldn't do that, CJ. I couldn't."

  
She smiled again. "No, I don't suppose you could."

"You okay?"

She wondered how she should answer that. "The man is dead, Sam. He killed himself." She sat back swiveling slightly, her eyes resting on a picture on the desk. It was one of her with Sam, Josh, and Toby back during the Bartlet for America campaign. Her hair was awful, but she looked so happy. Someone, she thought maybe it had been Leo, had snapped the picture just when they'd all started laughing, probably at some stupid remark Josh had made. Just looking at it usually made her smile, and now was no exception. Silence on the other end of the line snapped her back to the present. "The man who stalked me, who made it so I couldn't sleep, couldn't go out on my own, couldn't shop with my niecehe killed himself. And all I can think is, if that's what he wanted to do, why didn't he just do it before he started all this?" _If he had Simon would still be alive._ Of course, if he had, she probably wouldn't have met Simon. 

"I know, CJ." He wanted to say more, but no matter what he came up with, it sounded so lame in his ears. "If you need to talk"

"Thanks, Sam, but I just want to forget."

"Okay." Even through the phone, he could hear Carol telling CJ she had a meeting in a few minutes. "I guess I had better let you go. You must be busy."

"I could say the same for you, Sam. I hear Hoynes is going out there in a couple of days."

"Yeah. I figure the President must have arranged it."

"Actually it was Hoynes' idea." 

"Really?"

"Yes. He seems to like you, but then doesn't everybody?"

"I wish!"

"I'll call you later, Spanky."

"Okayand, CJ, I'm here if you need me."

"I know, Sam. You're like longitude and latitude."

"Contrived for the convenience of others?" 

"No, Sam. Eternally, unfailingly, unalterably dependable. And I do know that all those words mean the same thing."

Sam laughed. "Thanks, CJ."

"No fair, Spanky, I was going to say that."

  
**

  
**December 24**

Dulles Airport 

4:00 PM EST 

Mallory stared at the screen announcing that her flight to California was going to leave on time. She should be racing to the gate. She should be worried that her gift for Sam was packed correctly to survive the trip. She should be counting the minutes until she saw his face again. That's what you did when you were finally going to see the man you loved. She paused at that thought. Yes, indeed, she did love him. She knew that. She had probably always known it even when she had offered him Chinese Opera and no sex.

She continued to stare at the screen. She could hear the clock ticking in her head. She watched the people rushing past her for the gate. She saw the screen shift, and, finally, raced towards the gate. Running for all she was worth, she somehow managed to get there just as the attendant was closing the door to the boarding ramp. She stopped just short of the door.

"Was this your flight?" The attendant was poised to reopen the door and allow her to board.

Mallory stared at the woman, wondering for a moment what she had said. Then, her brain caught up with her auditory senses. "Yes" she meant to say. It was on the tip of her tongue, yet, what came out was, "No, thanks. This isn't my gate." The woman nodded, locked the door, and moved on with her duties.

Mallory stood there for about 15 minutes watching the plane move away from the boarding ramp and down towards the runway.

"I'm sorry, Sam." Her whisper was almost too soft for her to hear. 

**

****

Christmas Eve

Seaborn for Congress Campaign Headquarters

3:00 PM PST (6:00 PM EST)

Sam watched the last of his staff leave the office. He would probably be working for a while longer, but he'd let the staff leave. It was later than he'd wanted them to work anyhow. After all, it was Christmas Eve, and he wasn't anything like Ebenezer Scrooge.

The clicking of the keys on his laptop provided the only sound besides his own breathing, and he barely noticed either. His thoughts were focused on the words. He found that if he thought about actually saying them, he couldn't write them. He sat back for a second to relieve the dull ache in his lower back and glanced at his watch. It was only 3:30. Mallory's plane was still several hours away. He was going to pick her up himself. They had reservations at a lovely Italian restaurant, and he would buy flowers on the way to the airport. He couldn't wait to see her.

Reaching out a hand, he patted the present he'd picked for her. Wrapped in red and green paper with a gaudy red ribbon and a candy cane tied to it, the box looked deceptively small. The gift itself, diamond earrings, had been something he'd spent a lot of time choosing. They couldn't be just any earrings. These would perfectly suit Mallory. He considered it practice. Next year, he hoped to pick out an entirely different piece of jewelry.

  
The ringing of the phone stopped his thoughts of tonight's reunion. 

"Sam Seaborn."

"Sam, it's Mallory."

"Mal, where are you? Did you get in early?"

"No, I"  
  
She paused and he could tell what was coming. He was getting uncannily good at detecting when a woman meant to break his heart. He only wished he could sense it more than a few moments before it happened.

"Mal"

"No, Sam, let me say this. I'm still home. I couldn't come."

Sam's heart rate increased. He'd been wrong. Something had happened. "Are you okay? What happened? Is it Leo? Your mom?"

"No, Sam, nothing like that. Everyone's fine. I justI couldn't do it."

"Do what?"

"I couldn't come out there. I can't beSam, you're going to win."

"Everyone keeps saying that. My numbers are good, but"

"Sam shut up and listen. If you don't win this election, you will win your next. I can just see it. You want to be this. You want to do this. Sam, I'm not ready to be Abbey Bartlet."

"Mal, that's not gonna happen."

"You want it to happen. You want to be in politics, except you want to be the candidate, not the Staffer. I don't want that. I wanted to make a difference when I was in school, but for me that meant teaching. For youyou want to be the one to show the world the way. I admire that about you, I really do, but I can't be the candidate's wife. I can't be on display. I can't share my private life with the world. I can't be the First Lady."

"You're getting a bit ahead of yourself, aren't you?" He couldn't keep all the bitterness out of his voice, but he tried.

"No, Sam, I'm not. We both wanted more than casual dating. We were both looking for a long-term relationship. I just projected that desire on the kind of future we both want. Don't you see? We want different things."

"We can work through this, Mal. If we love each other"

"NO!" Mallory almost screamed into the phone, and Sam was taken aback by her vehemence. "We can't. My parent's loved each other. They couldn't do it, and I don't want to. I can't live like that. I want to be with someone. You, Sam Seaborn, are a lot like my father. You would be married to your job, whether you were a congressman or the President. I won't do it. It's better we end this now rather than later." She began to sob.

Sam looked at the red and green package still resting beneath his hand. Slowly he moved his hand to the desktop, careful not to touch the package. Moments earlier, he could barely wait to give it to her, now he treated it as if it would give him an electric shock if he even brushed against it.

"Mallory, don't. I love you." Her crying got louder when he said that. "Mallory?" 

He thought he could hear her say something through the tears, but then she hung up. He hit the redial button, but he got a busy signal. He had to take the hint. He had to give her time. He picked up the phone and dialed his mother. It would be easier to tell her over the phone that there'd be one less for dinner.

**

****

Christmas Eve

11:45 PM

Manchester

Leo McGarry hadn't spent a Christmas with Jed and Abbey Bartlet in a few years, and hewas surprised to find that he was looking forward to it. Jenny was going to be with her sister's family, and Mallory was going to be with Sam in California. Leo was certain Jed would have a grand time teasing him about that fact. 

The flight to Manchester had been relatively uneventful. He had met briefly with the President and they had discussed John Hoynes' warning from Lord Marbury. They still didn't have any hard evidence, so they'd done what they could. The President had tightened security all across the country, not least of all for his own family. Leo wished he could give him more advice, but he really couldn't guess what the Qumari had in mind.

He moved cautiously through the darkened house, nodding or whispering greetings to the Agents scattered around his friend's home. It wasn't until he stepped into the kitchen that he had any notion he would have company.

"What are you doing up?" He moved around the table to face the President.

"It's my house!"

"I'm not disputing that. You can't sleep?"

"How much weight do I give Marbury's unofficial off the record warning?"

"We've been through that."

"We never decided anything."

"Because there's nothing to decide. Safety protocols have been put in place. That's the best we can do."

"I know."

Leo sighed. "Don't get all melancholy now. Your wife and daughters are here. Your country is safe."

"I wish I were as certain of that as you seem to be."

Leo moved to the cabinet and got a glass filling it with water from the cooler in the corner of the kitchen. "Jed, you're as certain as I am. The only difference is you're still thinking about it and I'm not. Try to get some sleep. No one wants to spend Christmas Day with a grumpy Commander in Chief." Then he turned, and walked back to his room.

When Leo left, Jed Bartlet sat in his darkened kitchen staring at nothing. His mind raced with details, problems, potential solutions, and all he could think to do about it at the moment was sit at his kitchen table and thank God that his wife and kids were all safely in their beds.

Shaking himself from his reverie, he opened the file Fitzwallace had given him before he'd left the White House. He knew what it said, what it meant, but he got some small amount of comfort holding it, paging through it, and mulling over it.

Qumar knew what he had done. Somehow, that made what he had done seem more real than ever. If someone knew, someone could accuse publicly or privately. Whether they accused or not, they could retaliate. Retaliation in this circumstance could be a national horror, like a bombing, or a terrorist attack. It could, of course, also be a personal horror. Kidnapping, assassinationhe knew they were capable of doing it. He knew they were more than capable. They would do it, or they would let him think about them doing it.

He wondered, not for the first time, if he'd made the right decision, and the horror of it was, he knew he'd be wondering that for the rest of his life.

**

December 26

Office of the Press Secretary

9:15 AM

CJ Cregg stared at the letter in her hands wondering just what she was supposed to do about it. The letter had arrived at her home address, which was in itself enough to frighten her. Yes, there it was. She was frightened. Again. She'd read it a half dozen times, but there was no denying it. She would have to turn it over to Ron Butterfield.

She picked up the phone and dialed leaving a rather short, curt message on his voice mail. She knew he would get back to her ASAP, but waiting alone wasn't going to work. Getting up from her desk she wandered the halls, telling Carol to page her if Ron called.

It was a short walk before she found Danny heading in her direction.

"CJ! I needed to check with you about this quote from the President. Did he really say" He checked his notes. " Sam Seaborn is the best man ever to run for any office in California?'"

She smiled. "Yes. He said that."

"A little over the top, don't you think?"

"I won't editorialize about the President's statements."

"Isn't that your job?"

"Not in the least."

"Right. Where you going?"

"Hello, this is the White House. I work here, and sometimes they do let me leave my office."

"Okay, then let me tag along."

"Why?"

"To pester you with questions, which will one day land me a Pulitzer."

"Okay."

Danny frowned. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Fine." She knew she was lying, but she hoped he wouldn't notice.

"You wanna get a cup of coffee?"

"Sure."

"Is this a gag?"

"No, I love coffee."

"But you don't go out with me. Why are you agreeing to go out with me?"

"I didn't. I agreed to have coffee. We have coffee here." She pointed to a glass coffeepot set in the corner.

"Soyou wanna have dinner with me tomorrow night?"

"Let's get through the coffee, first, okay." She looked at her belt as her beeper went off. "I gotta run, Danny. Raincheck on the coffee?" Without waiting for a reply, she dashed to her office. Danny stared after her. 

When CJ reached her office, she thanked Ron Butterfield for coming and handed him the letter.

He read it through twice. "Do you mind if I take this?"

CJ shook her head. As he turned to leave, she took a step towards him. "So this is something to worry about?"

Ron turned back to face her, his expression serious and concerned. "We'll look into it."

He was out the door when CJ mumbled to herself. "I guess that was a yes."

**

****

Orange Country, CA

Save Our Beaches Organization

Formal Dinner

Palm Springs Marquis Hotel

December 26, 11:23 PM

Vice President John Hoynes vigorously shook hands with Sam Seaborn amidst the shouts of photographers to look in a particular direction. The speech Hoynes had given seemed to be having a positive impact, and Sam was grateful the man had come through for him. His own speech had been rousing as well, and he had felt the thrill of having an audience get to their feet when he'd finished speaking in just the way he'd once described it; from their socks. He wondered how it would translate to the polls.

Things had finally started looking up when Webb had tried to paint Sam Seaborn as a slacker, a coward, and a lackey. An off the cuff comment by White House Press Secretary CJ Cregg had seemed to turn the tide. When she'd told the press that Sam Seaborn had saved her life in Rosslyn, and then refused to elaborate, news stations all over the country had pulled out their tired old videotapes and examined them frame for frame. It hadn't taken much. A little magic with the zooming and the cleaning up of the images, and the entire country had seen the clear images of Sam Seaborn throwing CJ to the ground and covering her with his own body as glass and bullets flew through the air.

CNN had even had some sort of expert determine that if Sam had not done that, CJ would indeed have been killed and that Sam might even have died if he had hesitated in the slightest or if he had tripped.

  
Sam himself had been embarrassed and even mortified by the attention. Deflecting the question for weeks, he had finally made his one and only comment to a local newsman. The reporter had suggested that Sam's bravery had been an accident.

__

"Mr. Seaborn, are you avoiding these awkward questions because your intention was to save your own skin, but you ran blindly into Ms. Cregg?"

Sam stopped walking, and turned to face the reporter and no amount of tugging, pulling, pushing, or hushed whispers by Will Bailey or Elsie Snuffin could keep Sam Seaborn from telling the man what he thought. "I won't discuss my actions at Rosslyn. I won't capitalize on it. I won't listen to your feeble attempt to decipher what may or may not have been my intention. I only discuss Rosslyn with the people who were there. If you have a problem with that, there's really nothing I can do about it."

It had been a non-statementa verbose no comment' that had somehow become a story. Local newspapers and television stations had picked up the sound byte and had repeated it. Talk radio hosts debated the possibilities that Sam Seaborn was either sincere or calculating enough to capitalize on it by insisting that was the furthest thing from his mind. The general consensus of the public had been a profound belief in Sam Seaborn's unshakable morals. His numbers had started climbing immediately.

Sam was appalled that anything related to that day could turn out to benefit him. He had asked CJ why she'd done it.

"Why did you tell them that? It was our secret. No one needed to know."

CJ sighed softly before replying, and, even though a continent separated them, Sam could close his eyes and picture the precise look on her face. Her small, sincere, somewhat sad smile coupled with the twinkle of her eyes as the light danced in them gave him a moment of sanity and peace in his chaotic life. "I told them because it had to be said, Sam. You would never have done it, and Webb's allegationsSam, you are one of the good guys. There aren't many left. You deserve a chance, and I won't have Webb steal that from you with lies."

Sam had been grateful for her belief in him. After the MS scandal, he'd shut himself off from his coworkers. Truthfully, they all had. There had been precious little interaction between members of the Senior Staff, and they were only now coming together again. Sam assumed they'd withdrawn from each other as a sort of defense mechanism. It had been hard, especially after the blow of Mrs. Landingham's death, to deal with the intensity of the scandal. They'd been bombarded with questions about the President's health and how it might have impacted his decisions while in office. The media, the Republicans, and the lawyers had hounded them. The chance to govern had been overshadowed by the need to defend. Now, with the President's reelection, they had the chance to put it all behind them. They'd all set about repairing their damaged relationships.

Now, Hoynes and Seaborn played to the crowd. The two seemed natural together. They easily played off each other and their unrehearsed comments to the press couldn't have been better if they had been scripted. Will Bailey followed at a discreet distance as Hoynes and Seaborn walked the rope line. He saw Sam reach out to take someone's hand, then, Sam stopped and turned moments before his body jerked backwards, and he half-stumbled into Hoynes. The Vice President caught the younger man, but Will was able to see no more since Hoynes' Secret Service Detail converged on the pair. He heard someone scream, and then chaos erupted as the Detail tried to disengage Hoynes from Seaborn, only to be met with resistance by the Vice President. Bailey wasn't sure what the man said from this distance, but his tone and the vice-like grip he held on Sam brooked no argument. In moments, both men had been shoved into a waiting limousine, and Will stood staring after it knowing no more about what had just happened than the average television viewer who was undoubtedly staring at a couple of talking heads who claimed to have no information.

**

To Be Continued


	11. part 11

****

Non Sum Qualis Eram part 11

By Ecri

See Part One for Disclaimer and Spoilers.

Washington, D.C.

Donna Moss' Apartment

3:40 AM

Donna heard a distant, muffled ringing, and blearily opened her eyes. Seeing the glowing digital numbers of her alarm clock slip from 3:40 to 3:41, she squeezed her eyes shut and groaned. She knew it had to be Josh. No one else ever called her at this time, and it was her cell phone. Sighing, she slipped out of her warm bed and ran barefoot to her purse, which she'd tossed on the floor by the bedroom door an hour ago.

She snapped the phone open, wondering why she hadn't thought to shut it off before going to bed. "Joshua Lyman, do you know what time it is?"

She listened to his soft reply, her indignation melting into fear and worry, as she dashed into her living room and fumbled for her television remote. Clicking on CNN, she saw footage of Sam and the Vice President being hustled into a car as a commentator gave a few details.

"Okay, Josh. I'll be there in 20 minutes." She hung up, tossed the phone in her bag, and, grateful she'd taken a shower to relax just before going to bed forty minutes ago, she dressed and dashed out of her apartment in under two minutes. She was nearly at the White House when she realized she hadn't stopped for one red light.

**

****

The White House

Oval Office

4:22 AM

President Bartlet stared at the telephone wondering why it wasn't ringing. "Charlie!"

His bellow brought the young man to the door. "They haven't called, sir. I've asked the switchboard to put it through as soon as they do."

Bartlet nodded. "Of course you did. Sorry about that." Bartlet turned his attention to his Chief of Staff. "You sure you told me everything you know?"

"Yes, sir. You saw the news clip." Leo's face was pale, though his voice was strong and clear.

Jed Bartlet shuddered at the image his mind conjured. Seeing Sam Seaborn standing, smiling, and shaking the hands of the people who would decide his future only to have one of them stab him. Jed began to pace wishing someone had more information for him.

Abbey, seated on the sofa nearest her husband's desk, rose and walked to his side. She couldn't say much to comfort him, so she offered her physical presence as support and succor. 

  
Leo watched the transformation once again, as the President became the man. Jed reached for his wife's hand and brought it up to rest over his heart, covering it with his own. He knew, as Abbey surely did, why Jed wanted her here. Aside from the need to have his wife nearby in times of personal crisis, as he surely saw this situation, he would need her to translate the medical jargon once they got a update. 

  
Discreetly, the Chief of Staff turned away when Abbey leaned in closer to her husband and whispered comforting words in hushed tones.

**

****

California

Vice Presidential Motorcade

"What the hell happened, Joe?" John Hoynes barked at Joe Martin, head of his Secret Service Detail. "I thought the area was secured!"

Joe was simultaneously dealing with an irate Vice President and a bleeding congressional candidate while listening to various reports coming through his radio. "Sir, the area was secure"

"Then why is this man bleeding?" Hoynes reached across Sam's prone form and helped the younger man put pressure on the gash in his arm.

"We've apprehended the perpetrator, sir. The hospital has been notified of our arrival. ETA in 2 minutes."

Hoynes nodded, his attention still on the younger man by his side. The Vice President was sure that, were he to ask, Sam would say it looked worse than it was. Sam Seaborn was already trying to minimize his discomfort. He hadn't said a word since that moment on the line. Hoynes tried to recall exactly what had happened, knowing the President, his staff, and, of course, Ron Butterfield, would want to know every detail.

He had watched in admiration tinged with a bit of nostalgia as Sam Seaborn took the podium. The younger man had kept his remarks short and succinct, but he knew how to get the most out of every second in front of an audience. Hoynes had been reminded of his own first race for office in an equally staunch Republican district in Texas. He'd held his own by clinging strongly to his own beliefs, but the size of his campaign contributions had far outdistanced what Seaborn had to draw upon. He shook his head wondering what Seaborn intended to do to keep the funds from dissipating too quickly. 

Hoynes would gladly have made a donation, but had had to settle for wrangling a few sizable contributions from several people who still owed him favors. As far as he knew, Seaborn and his camp hadn't uncovered his own connection to their sudden windfall.

Seaborn spoke from the heart, and he had a way of connecting with the people. No one who heard him speak, who looked into his eyes as they scanned the crowd, could doubt his sincerity. 

Hoynes had waited for his own introduction, and it had been a good one. He'd been flattered by the kind words, and had even improvised a comment or two regarding how well Seaborn spoke of him. He'd gotten a few laughs before launching into his own speech about the environment, and then driving home his point that Sam Seaborn would protect the environment with every breath in his body.

He'd asked Seaborn to return to the stage, and it took some coaxing. The kid seemed determined not to be seen as taking advantage of his close ties to the Bartlet Administration. It was Hoynes appeals to the audience, who'd broken into wild applause, that had finally brought the man back on stage. Hoynes wasted no time, and crossed the stage to meet Seaborn halfway. He'd immediately raised Sam's arm above his head, and, to the accompanying roar of the crowd, urged them to vote for Sam Seaborn.

Sam had seemed somewhat embarrassed, and Hoynes could see the flash of a moment in his eyes when Hoynes knew that Sam was wondering what he was doing here, and how he had gotten himself into this. Hoynes laughed, recognizing the moment, though he'd never seen it so clearly in anyone else save himself. The laughter seemed to release Seaborn from whatever internal thoughts or demons held him back. He'd locked eyes with Hoynes, and, knowing the Vice President had seen what he'd been thinking joined him in a wholehearted laugh. Hoynes remembered thinking he'd never really heard that hearty sound from the younger man before. 

It was upon their leaving that Hoynes realized he should have been more cautious. He'd seen his Secret Service detail at the rope line. Sam had demurred to the Vice President's preferences, but he'd been relieved when he realized that Hoynes wanted to walk the line as much as he did.

"I didn't know if you'd go in for this kind of thing." Seaborn's confession brought a smile to Hoynes lips. 

"I admit I enjoy it, but probably not as much as the President."

  
"I've never met a soul who enjoys a rope line as much as the President."

With that, they'd approached the line, took hands in their own, smiled to the crowd, and been semi-blinded by the flash of the cameras. It wasn't until his detail had stepped forward, someone shouting "weapon", that Hoynes became aware of the danger. Seaborn, a step ahead of him in more ways than one, turned, and apparently seeing something more clearly than Hoynes, moved to make way for the Agent who tried to pull Hoynes away from the line. Hoynes caught a flash of something shiny, then saw Seaborn actually step towards it shielding Hoynes from whatever was in front of him. Seaborn had almost immediately stumbled backwards, into Hoynes grasp. The Vice President held on to the congressional hopeful with a grip of iron. When his Agents tried to dislodge his grip, he'd only tightened it. Agent McFarland locked his eyes on his charge. "Mr. Vice President"

"You're wasting time, Agent."

His choice of words was deliberate. He usually called Agent McFarland by his first name. The formal use of his title would let the man know the Vice President would neither argue nor leave Seaborn behind.

McFarland didn't hesitate again. Adapting to the situation, he and his men shielded Hoynes and Seaborn, hurried them into the waiting limo, and allowed the rest of the detail to find the assailants.

Now, Hoynes attention was unshakably on the bleeding, somewhat dazed man sitting next to him. Just when Hoynes was about to demand to know where the hell the hospital was, they stopped and Agent McFarland announced they'd arrived.

Hoynes exited as soon as McFarland opened his door, but, to the consternation of every agent on his detail, his self-appointed task as Seaborn's guardian didn't end simply because they'd reached the hospital. Hoynes stuck to the younger man's side all the way into the ER. 

**

****

The White House

  
Charlie sat at his desk, wondering why he always seemed to be waiting to hear about someone who'd been hurt. His mother, Josh and the Presidentlast year when Deanna had been injured in a basketball gameHis only consolation, and it was a bitter one at that, was that he hadn't been with Sam. This time, it couldn't be his fault.

He stared across the room to the desk he still thought of as Mrs. Landingham's. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate Debbie Fiderer. It was in times like these, however, that he would have found the older woman's presence to be a bit more of an anchor. She could make the bad times seem temporary somehow. Without her, it seemed things slipped more easily into chaos.

He imagined her looking at him now. He knew the look of concern and support that would be on her face. He knew she'd have taken his hand and told him that she knew what he was thinking, and that a twinkle in her eye would make it obvious that she was about to say something to take his mind off of what was happening. He also knew that, however it turned out, she would be there for him to hold onto if that was what he needed.

His eyes misted a bit, and he looked at the photograph the President had given to him in a silver frame for Christmas. It was of himself, the President, and Mrs. Landingham. He'd proudly placed it next to the picture CJ had given him earlier in the year. "I miss you." His voice was so low, he could barely hear it himself, but he could almost hear her reply. "I miss you, too, Charlie, but I'm never far."

A noise down the hall shook him from his dark thoughts. He looked up as Josh and Donna stopped by his desk, both looking disheveled and distressed. "Is he in?" Josh glanced towards the Oval.

Charlie nodded. "He's waiting for you."

As soon as Josh entered, the phone rang. Charlie answered, nodding to CJ and Toby as they arrived and gesturing for them to go right into the Oval Office. Moments later, Charlie stood in the office door. "Mr. President, I have Will Bailey on the line."

Charlie transferred the call, and sat down, as Donna stared at the now closed door to the Oval Office.

On the other side of that door Bartlet nodded and gestured towards the phone. Leo took the hint and put the call on the speaker.

Bartlet spoke. "We're here. Tell us what you know."

"Mr. President?" Bailey sounded flustered, and didn't say anything else.

Bartlet exhaled slowly. He wasn't in the mood for people who were flustered by his title. "Mr. Bailey. Tell us what you know."

"Right. Yesyes, sir. The Vice President is fine, sir. Sam's being examined now. They said it's a bad wound, deep, but they seemed optimistic."

Bartlet studied his wife's face, but she hadn't heard enough. She stepped closer to the speaker. "Mr. Bailey, this is Dr. Bartlet. I need to speak to a doctor or a nurse about Sam's condition."

They heard a thumping noise followed by several muffled words then Will Bailey spoke again. "Uhsorry about that. I dropped the phone."

Toby slapped his forehead with his hand and turned his back on the desk. CJ caught a glimpse of him actually biting his lip as if he needed the physical restraint to keep his mouth closed.

  
Josh felt no such need. He strode quickly across the room and leaned towards the speakerphone until he was mere inches away. "Will, whatever you're doing stop it, and talk to us! We want to know what's going on! If you can't handle that, find someone who can!" They heard another thump.

"Good going, Josh! He dropped the phone again!" Toby turned to face them, his face red, and his hands clenched into fists.

**

****

Hoag Hospital

Orange County, CA

The Vice President spoke in hushed tones having learned long ago that it was one of the best ways to get people to listen to him. The doctor certainly had leaned forward and given Hoynes his complete attention. "If it is as minor as you're saying, why are you keeping him here?"

"Mr. Seaborn has lost a lot of blood, and upon his arrival, we determined that he had slipped into shock. We'd like to monitor his recovery."

Hoynes was a politician first and foremost, but he could also read people, and right now, he believed the doctor was holding out. "DoctorFarrell, was it?" When the doctor nodded Hoynes continued. "I won't dispute what you're saying. We both want Sam to recover as speedily as possible, but when the President calls me and asks why his favorite speechwriter and the man he hopes will take the California 47th is in the hospital, he's going to want details. There's something you're not telling me isn't there?"

Doctor Farrell looked down the hall where four Secret Service agents stood. Two more stood a pace behind the Vice President acting as though they hadn't heard a word of the conversation taking place right before their eyes. "Mr. Vice President, according to the man who was wielding the knife, the wound will be fatal. He won't say why. We're analyzing the blade now. Simply put, until we know what we're dealing with, whether it's a real threat or simply a last effort to cause panic, we want him where we can see him."

Hoynes nodded. "Thank you for your candor, Doctor." He leaned to the right and addressed his senior agent. "Set up some security for him. I'm going to call the President in a little while." The agent nodded.

"Sir?" Another agent called for his attention, and when he turned, John Hoynes saw his wife being escorted to his side. 

John hugged his wife as she flung herself into his arms. "It's okay. I'm not hurt."

She held on fiercely as if needing to verify that he was real. Finally, she loosened her grip and stepped back. "John, I was so worried."

"I know. I'm okay. I'm waiting to hear how Sam is."

In that moment, Will Bailey rounded the corner almost at a dead run. The Secret Service agents stopped him, physically barring his way while trying to decipher what he was trying to say.

Hoynes sighed. He wanted to go and check on Sam, or stay here and talk to his wife, but he knew he'd better handle Seaborn's Campaign Director. It would do wonders for Sam's campaign, not to mention the reputation of the Secret Service, if the odd little man were arrested.

The Vice President and his wife, with their own agents in tow, approached the agents who held Bailey. "It's alright, gentlemen. He's here for Seaborn." He turned to face a visibly shaken Bailey. "Why the 100 yard dash?"

"Oh, uhI ha..have the President on the phone." He pointed to a pay phone around the corner. "I was asked to call the White House to let them now what was happening, and"

"Is he on hold? Do you have the President on hold? On a pay phone?"

Slowly, a look of horror spread across Will Bailey's face, and in the silence following Hoynes' question, they could both hear a voice coaching Will to pick up the phone.

Hoynes crossed the distance to the phone, and snatched the receiver before it could once again strike the wall. "Mr. President?"

**

****

The White House

CJ took a step closer to Toby as he rambled on about Will Bailey dropping the phone. Her physical presence seemed to calm him somewhat.

Josh was making incoherent noises until Leo took his arm and forced him to stand still. "Settle down." His voice was a whisper, but his expression was a shout. He could see Josh's blood pressure rising as if it were one of old those cartoons. He half-expected to see a thermometer pop out of the top of his head with the mercury gushing through a hole it blew out of the top.

Bartlet leaned towards the speaker, though on some level, he knew proximity wasn't necessary. "WillWill Bailey, pick up the phone! WillMy God" He glanced around the room taking in the faces of his staff and his wife. "How is this man running a major congressional campaign? How is this man running _Sam's_ major congressional campaign?" He glared at Toby, CJ, and Josh, and each of them looked uncomfortable with the scrutiny, feeling they'd somehow failed their friend.

Pointedly, Bartlet turned back to the speaker and yelled louder. "Will, pick up the phone and talk to me!"

Abbey glared at her husband. "Jed, you need to calm down. You're not going to get anywhere by yelling at the phone!"

"Mr. President?" John Hoynes voice almost immediately calmed everyone in the room.

Jed favored his wife with a look that said You were wrong. That was all me.' conveniently turning back to the speaker before he saw her we'll discuss _that_ later' look.

"Thank God! John, what's going on?"

The Vice President recapped what Dr. Farrell had told him, and at Abbey's request, had the doctor promise to call her directly with an update when he had more information.

"Mr. President, I've asked my Agent to set up some security for Sam for tonight, and I plan to stay here with him until he's out of the woods."

Before Bartlet could reply, Josh stepped forward. "I'll be there tomorrow, Mr. Vice President."

Bartlet considered this. "Okay, John, Josh will be there tomorrow. You do whatever you need to do, but stay with Sam. Have you spoken to him?"

"Not yet, sir. They were about to let me in, when I found out you were on the phone." 

"Okay. You go be with him, and if he's up to it, have him give me a call. He'll be put straight through to me no matter what time it is."

**

****

Hoag Hospital

Orange County, CA

Sam sat on the bed, studying the bandage that covered his right arm. Why'd it have to be his right arm? He'd already tried flexing a few muscles, holding a pen in his hand, and miming the movements of typing on his laptop. He knew he shouldn't be worried. Chances were good that he'd recover full mobility. No point in worrying about a thing that might never happen.

He turned startled when he heard the sound of the curtain being drawn back. There stood the Vice President and his wife, one of his agents, and a nurse. The nurse quickly stepped to Sam's side.

"Mr. Seaborn, you shouldn't be sitting up." 

Sam wavered a bit, his equilibrium still off from the attack and the loss of blood. Instantly, Hoynes was by his side, a steadying hand on his good arm.

He smiled at the Vice President in gratitude and not a little confusion. "Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome, Sam. You should be resting."

"No arguments here, sir." Sam allowed the Vice President and the nurse to help him settle back in the bed. "I'm not going home?" Sam sounded a little befuddled.

"No, sir, you need to stay the night." The nurse spoke a little loudly, and didn't seem at all surprised by the question. 

"It's just a scratch." The impact of Sam's insistence was somewhat lessened by the soft tone and the unintentional closing of his eyes.

"Sam?" Hoynes called the young man softly. The Vice President could see the younger man was still trembling from the shock. If Sam needed to sleep, he'd just call the President back and explain. 

He was spared that arduous task when Sam's eyes fluttered open and he smiled at Hoynes. "Mr. Vice President? 

"We'll let you rest in just a minute, Sam. You have a call to make first." He picked up the receiver from the bedside phone and dialed. Finally getting a hold of Charlie, Hoynes handed the phone to Sam.

**

****

The Oval Office

Silence permeated the Oval Office almost as intensely as did the worry of its occupants. Abruptly, the President stood, stormed towards the door, and threw it open. "Charlie, call"

The phone rang cutting off the President's order. 

Charlie picked it up. "Hello. Yes. That's good to hear." He looked at the President. "Mr. President. It's Sam."

"Put it through." Jed turned back to his desk, gesturing towards Leo, who answered the call almost before the ring sounded.

The President called out loudly. "Sam?"

The others in the room stood and gathered closer to the phone.

"Mr. President?"

"Sam, you don't know what a relief if is to hear your voice."

"Yes, sir. I think I do, sir."

Abbey took her husband's arm. "Sam, how are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, Ma'am."

Abbey was shaking her head before he finished speaking. "Try again."

Sam was silent for a moment, and when he spoke it was in a quieter, less exuberant tone. They could all hear the fatigue and anxiety in their friend's voice. "I'mtired, Ma'am. The doctors here stitched my arm and have me on some painkillers. Truthfully, they're really _good _painkillers, but they're making me feel a littleloopy."

Abbey smiled. "We won't keep you. We're glad you're all right." She didn't mention the rest of what they'd been told, unsure if Sam had been told at all, or if he'd even remember it depending on what kind of drugs he was taking.

"I'll say!" The President motioned to the others in the room to step towards the desk. "Listen to what the doctors have to tell you." Bartlet's mind was trying to convince himself he could go as well, but he was failing miserably. He glanced around the office at the anxious faces waiting their turn. "Sam, there's a room full of people here who want to speak to you, but I outrank them, so I go first."

"Yes, sir, first. Right after your wife." Toby's voice carried across the room, and got the first laugh from Sam.

"Don't encourage him, Sam," the President admonished. 

"Sorry, sir."

"Sounds like you're enjoying yourself at Toby's expense." Josh's voice was tinged with relief, anxiety, and, if Sam hadn't been on painkillers, he might have identified apprehension.

"I have to laugh at someone's expense."

"Sam, you have to take better care of yourself." CJ wished she had thought of something better to say, but she had to say something. She couldn't sit here mute after all the time she'd just spent worrying.

"I'm sure my mother would agree with you."

"Okay, everybody, let the man recover in peace." Leo stared Toby, Josh, and CJ down. "Sam, call us tomorrow and let us know how you are."

"Sure thing, sir." 

Sensing Sam's growing fatigue, the President decided they'd kept him on the phone long enough. "Sam, you take care of yourself and put the Vice President on." The President waited for Hoynes familiar voice. "John, Ron Butterfield tells me this was meant for you."

"That's the current theory. I get the distinct impression that they haven't told me everything."

"Really. Well, I'll try to figure out what that is, and let you know by the time you get back. And John, thanks for looking after him."

"You're welcome, Mr. President."

Bartlet clicked off the call and looked around at his tired staff. "He's okay,"

They all smiled.

"Leo, I want to know what the Secret Service knows about this."

"Yes, sir."

"Josh, you're going to California tomorrow"

"I'm going with him, Jed." It was clear to everyone that Abbey Bartlet had made her decision.

"Oh, no you're not! Someone just tried to kill Sam and Hoynes!"

"I want to talk to the doctors. Besides, if I don't go, you won't know what's going on. Josh won't have a clue what they're telling him."

Josh's eyebrows both raised so far up on his forehead, they looked ready to merge with his hairline. "She'sgot a point about that, sir."

"Oh, all right!" He turned on everyone else in the room. "But no one else!"

"Sir, can I bring Donna?"

Bartlet sighed. "You have to. I can't trust you to make it home without her help! Now, get out of here, all of you. We've had a busy night, and we're going to have a busy day."

Choruses of "Yes, sir" and "Thank you, Mr. President" echoed through the room. 

When they were finally alone, Jed turned to Abbey. "Make sure they save him, Abbey."

"I'll do what I can, Jed."

**

When Charlie put the call through to the Oval Office, Donna stood in front of his desk. When he didn't immediately answer her unspoken questions, she tried speaking them. "Well?"

Charlie considered playing the "Well, what?" game, but he saw the fear in Donna's blue eyes, her creased brow, and even in her tense stance. "He's fine, Donna. He sounded a little tired, but he's really just fine."

"Fine?" She took half a step back. "Fine? He's fine." She took another step back and landed hard in the chair she'd only just vacated. Charlie rushed over to her afraid the chair might tip if she overbalanced. He saw her relief spill down her face in a flow of tears, and he handed her a hanky.

After a few moments, Josh came barreling out of the room. He and Toby were talking at the same time, with CJ trying to get them both to stop. Donna thanked Charlie, and raced after her boss. 

Josh turned to find her at his side. "Donna, go home and pack. We're going to Orange County. Be back here ASAP. We're going on Air Force One."

Donna stopped. "The President's going?" She was sure something was wrong. Sam must not be fine if the President was going.

"No, Abbey's going."

"Oh. Isn't it just called Air Force One if the President is on it?"

"We're going on the big Presidential plane! Now go home and pack!"

  
Donna didn't even blink. She stopped at her desk, grabbed her coat and purse, and raced out the door.

**

To Be Continued


	12. part 12

****

Non Sum Qualis Eram part 12

By Ecri

See Part One for Disclaimer and Spoilers.

The Four Seasons Hotel

Newport Beach, Orange County, CA

The Vice President's Room

Carolyn Hoynes sat on the bed carefully removing her jewelry. Her husband was in the next room getting ready for bed. The ubiquitous Secret Service was scattered through the hotel. Two Agents stood outside their door.

Her thoughts flew back to that moment when she'd known something was wrong. She'd waited near the hotel doors as John and Sam worked the rope line, shaking hands, smiling, and campaigning. She was barely paying attention until she heard running. Looking up, she saw someone in a tux fall into someone else, then her agents had closed around her and hustled her into a separate car. She demanded to know how her husband was, but they had no information. It wasn't until she saw him at the hospital that she'd been sure. 

Quietly, trying to keep her husband from hearing her, she sobbed. She didn't know how long she cried, but eventually she felt her husband's arms around her, and she found herself clinging to him once again.

"It's okay, Carolyn. I'm fine."

She nodded, still sobbing. "I know."

He held her, and they talked until she was calmer. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"For what?"

"Crying."

"Don't be sorry for that. We're all fine, and we'll all stay that way."

She laughed. "You know, John, you make it hard not to believe you."

"Then believe me."

"I mean, lately, since you've been Vice President, you're so much moredetermined. And patient."

"Patient? I don't think anyone's ever called me that."

"That's because you've never been that before. You've changed."

"In a good way?"

"Only ever that, my love. Only ever that! You have a new confidence about you. You seem so much morecomfortable with yourself."

"I suppose I am." He thought about it briefly, but then turned his attention back to his wife. "And I _am_ fine!"

She laughed and hugged him, rejoicing that she had not lost him.

**

****

The Next Day

Hoag Hospital

Orange County, CA

Abbey Bartlet knew how to take advantage of the privileges of her office, unofficial though it was. As First Lady and as a doctor, she knew precisely whom to talk to and what tone to use to get what she wanted. Right now, she wanted to see Sam's doctor, but she recognized that Donna and Josh couldn't care less about that. They wanted to see Sam.

Her agents, of course, had called ahead, and they were met at the hospital entrance by one of Hoynes' men. He instantly greeted the First Lady, spoke in hushed tones to her senior agent, and led the way down the halls, up the elevators, and down still more corridors to Sam's room.

Two agents guarded the private room. Josh wasn't sure what he'd expected, but the sight of Sam sitting up, deep in conversation with his mother, his father, and the Vice President hadn't been it.

"Sam!"

"Josh!" He sat up a little straighter when he saw Abbey and Donna enter. "Donna, Dr. Bartlet, you didn't _all_ have to come." 

Abbey laughed, glad to see Sam looking so well. "Actually, you're lucky my husband didn't come. He considered bringing the entire staff, but we couldn't quite figure out how to explain that expenditure."

Sam saw his parents smiling at Abbey's words, and realized he'd forgotten to introduce them. "Oh, Dr. Bartlet, this is my mom, Olivia Seaborn, and my dad, Norman Seaborn."

Abbey stretched her hand across the bed. "It's a pleasure to meet you. You've raised a wonderful son."

"We like to think so." Norman Seaborn smiled, still astonished at the life his son had made for himself.

Abbey smiled and took Sam's wrist in her hand so she could take his pulse.

Sam smiled. "I'm fine, ma'am."

"I'm happy to see that, Sam. Where's your doctor? I'd like to talk to him."

Hoynes stood. "He wanted to see you, too. He asked us to send for him when you got here."

Sam reached over and hit the call button. "We spoke to the President a little while ago. Josh, you need to call Leo about the budget."

"I'll call later." He laughed at the look Sam gave him. "Don't look at me like that! We just flew across the country thinking you were d"Josh stopped, swallowing hard as the word caught in his throat.

"I'm okay, Josh. The doctors told me what they were worried about, but the tests came back negative. The blade was clean."

"Relatively clean, yes." Dr. Farrell stood in the doorway, and held out his hand to Dr. Bartlet and Donna. "I'm Dr. Farrell. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Doctor, what did you mean by relatively clean'?" Olivia Seaborn's fright was clear on her face. 

Abbey took a step closer to the doctor and peered at the chart he held in his hand.

"It didn't seem to be purposely contaminated with any viruses or anything like that, but it wasn't sterile either. We don't foresee any complications, but we are giving him some antibiotics along with the painkillers. We plan to release him tomorrow."

  
"Tomorrow?" Sam's face fell at the thought that he'd be stuck in the hospital another day.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Seaborn, but we need to make sure there are no complications. You lost a lot of blood, and we want to be sure the antibiotics are working."

"You listen to the Doctor, Sam." Olivia fussed with his blanket. "You stay as long as they think it's necessary.

Sam took his mother's hand and held it until she looked him in the eye. "I'm okay, mom."

Olivia nodded, and, impulsively hugged her son.

Josh was carefully studying Abbey Bartlet, who was still scrutinizing Sam's chart. He wasn't sure why, but he had to hear it from her that Sam would be all right. He didn't notice, but Hoynes and Donna were also both staring at Dr. Bartlet.

Abbey's attention was divided between Dr. Farrell's words, and the chart she held in her hand. Only when she paused to flip the page did she become aware of the stares of three of the occupants of the room. She almost laughed, but she had long ago grown accustomed to this. It was how Jed and the girls would look at her whenever a doctor gave an opinion on the health of someone they loved. She took a moment to peruse the chart, and then she looked up at the three who stared at her. She gave them a small smile and a nod, and spoke to Sam, but her words were for the others. "Well, Sam, I have to say, I agree with Dr. Farrell. You did lose a lot of blood, and they do have to be certain you don't come down with any infections, and the painkillers you're on would make it very hard for you to continue with your normal routine."

She took a step closer to the bedside and looked Sam squarely in the eye. "You gave us a scare, and it's good to know that you're okay. Now, rest. The doctor will likely be lessening the dose of your painkillers so that you can leave tomorrow and not fall flat on your face."

"He's fallen flat on his face _without_ the help of painkillers." Josh's relieved smile seemed contagious as the others looked at him.

  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam sounded indignant, but his smile took the edge off the words.

"Oh. Did I say that out loud?"

"Yes!"

Josh smiled. "Sorry."

"No you're not!"

"No. I'm not. Sam, you're notgraceful."

"I'm going to remember you said that, Giselle."

Donna's laughter caught Sam's ear, and he glanced over at her. "Did you come to keep him in line?"

Donna nodded. "The President wasn't sure he could find his way home without me."

"How did you..." Josh stared at his assistant once again considering the idea that she had otherworldly powers.

She smiled. "CJ told me."

"It's good to see you, Donna." Sam's eyes stayed transfixed on the young woman for a few moments longer than normal. He wrote that off as an effect of the drugs.

Donna did the same, ignoring the fact that his attention made her heart skip a beat.

**

The Oval Office

December 27

Charlie waited for a pause in the conversation and then got the President's attention. "Mr. President, Mr. McGarry would like to see you. It's about an old friend."

The President's eyebrows raised slightly. "Thank you, Charlie. Gentlemen, if we're about finished?"

The small group of economic advisors stood, gathering their notes and laptops. The usual chorus of goodbyes and thank yous followed them from the room.

Once they'd gone, the President nodded at Charlie. "Send them in, Charlie."

"I hope you have more than the last time." Jed Bartlet glared at Ron Butterfield and Leo McGarry, as they walked into the room, but as soon as he saw the look that passed between the two men, he knew he wasn't going to like whatever it was they were about to tell him. "Oh, it can't be that bad! Has Russia asked us to give back Alaska? The Louisiana Purchase is being challenged in court?"

"Sir, I have details regarding yesterday's incident."

"And"

"The Secret Service has determined that the assailant was attempting to kill the Vice President in the last way still available to him."  
  
"What does that mean?"

Leo cleared his throat. "There was a plot foiled a several hours earlier, which would have resulted in the Vice President's Motorcade being trapped in a tunnel rigged with explosives. They intended for the entire thing to come down on his headduring rush hour."

The President digested this information as well as he could. That sort of accident would have killed more than just the Vice President and his entourage. At rush hour, those roads would have been "Wasn't Sam going to be in Hoynes' car?"

"No, sir." Leo insisted. "He wasn't going to be in the car. He was going to be in the car right behind the Vice President's." Leo could barely get the words out. The explosives were meant to go off when Hoynes' car was in the middle of the tunnel. Sam's car would have been trapped or destroyed as well. Since Ron had briefed him, his overactive imagination had supplied image after image of Sam Seaborn trapped, dying, and bleeding under the debris and rubble of a collapsed tunnel, the younger man's words echoing in his mind. _"Tunnels and Bridges. That's my nightmare."_

Leo clenched his eyes shut for a moment thinking about Sam living that nightmare, then swallowed hard at the thought that living' might have been an inappropriate word if the attack had gone as planned.

Bartlet saw his Chief of Staff's reaction, but restrained himself from asking about it. 

"And wefoiled that, did we?"

Ron Butterfield nodded. "Three men were apprehended. They carried enough explosives to take out the tunnel three times over. The man on the rope line was only in place to act if the other three failed."

"And he would know they failed when the Vice President made it to the dinner."

"Yes, sir."

"So, Sam just got in the way."

"Yes, sir."

"Who was it?"

"Pardon me?"

"Who was trying to kill Hoynes?"

Ron restrained himself from glancing at Leo, but they both answered in unison. "Qumar."

The President allowed that to sink in, while he fixed himself a drink. "So, have they claimed responsibility?"

"No, sir. The conspirators are claiming sole responsibility."

"But we don't believe them."

"No, sir. We suspect the Qumari government is behind this, especially in light of the information Lord Marbury passed along to the Vice President." He paused, knowing how his President would respond to his next words. "Sir, we believe you should cancel the trip you've scheduled to Orange County. We believe they settled for the Vice President because you were secure in Washington."

"No."

"Sir?"

"We're not canceling. I will not change my plans just becauseI'm not changing my plans. 

Ron took a half step closer to the President, and the look in his eyes drew the President closer as well. "Mr. President, we will be stepping up security around you, your family, and the Vice President and his family. Here's a memo, sir, detailing the full changes." He handed the president a 15-page memo. "If you insist on going to Orange County"

"And I do."

"Then security will have to reflect our new concerns."

"You think the Qumari are gunning for me."

"We'd rather play it safe, sir."

Bartlet had been President long enough to take this seriously. "All right. Do what you need to do. What about my staff?"

"Sir?"

"My staff? CJ's been stalked once before. Sam got in the way, and would likely have been killed in the event that they'd taken the tunnel they'd intended to take. Josh has been shot, Charlie had been shot atwhat about security for them."

"If you order it, sir, we can get something in place."

"There was an implied but' at the end of that."

"It's not normally done, sir."

"Do it. If the budget won't allow for it, I'll pay for it myself."

"That's not"

"Ron, I'm done discussing this. I want them safe."

"Yes, sir."

**

****

Office of the White House Communications Director

Toby had done it, and in record time. Thanks to Sam Seaborn, he'd finished the Inaugural speech. If there were no major policy shifts, he wouldn't have more than a bit of polishing to do. Of course, that meant they'd probably trash the entire speech, but for now he was done. 

  
The next task, however, was the budget. He was still working on the tax-deductible tuition, but his mind was stuck in Orange County. It was about forty minutes past the time when Josh had promised to call. He picked up his phone and dialed CJ's extension. 

"CJ, have you heard from Josh?"

"Hello, to you to, Toby. I'm just fine, thanks."

"I don't have time for that. Have you heard from Josh?"

"No. I'm sure he'll call." She paused. "You wanted to go, didn't you?"

"What?"

"Just like you wanted to run his campaign. You wanted to be there at the hospital."

"I'm sure you did, too."

"Ah, we're not talking about me."

"Why exactly are we talking about me?"

"Toby, drop the act. I've known you too long."

"I'm going to call Josh."

"If he's in the hospital, his cell will be off. Toby, it's never too late. If you think it over, you'll come up with a way to be there."

"I'm hanging up." 

Toby did hang up, but he spent the next hour going over Donna's latest Sam memos.

**

****

Seaborn for Congress Campaign Offices

December 27

Angela hung up the phone and looked at the expectant faces gathered around her desk. "He's being released tomorrow."

The relief in the room was expressed in every possible way from timid smiles to exuberant cheers to group hugs. Angela watched the celebration for a moment, glad for the time to compose her own erratic thoughts before turning back to business. 

"Okay, people, we have some work to do. We need to cancel today's activities and reschedule them. We need to lighten tomorrow's load slightly without Sam realizing we've done it, and we need to release a statement from this office saying how well he's doing." In moments, the efficient Sam Supporters had divided the labor and scattered to their tasks.

Abigale strolled down the hall to Will Bailey's, while Michelle headed for Scott Holcombe's office. 

Michelle waited a moment for Scott to hang up the phone. When he did, she stepped inside his office. "Scott"

Scott whirled around in his chair with a look like a terrified child on his face, as he slid papers into his desk as if worried she might have seen them.

Michelle's eyes narrowed as she watched him. "We're rescheduling Sam's day. Anything I should know before I do that?"

"Oh, uh, no. It's fine."

She nodded, and headed back to her desk, wondering what she had almost seen.

Meanwhile, Abigale stood in the doorway of Will's office as he typed on his laptop. "Will, we need a statement for the press."

Will looked up reluctantly. "What was that?"

"We've been getting a lot of calls from the press about Sam's condition and what that means for the campaign."

"I'm working on that now."

"So when they call, can we say a statement is forthcoming?"

"Sure. Whatever you need to say." He spoke distractedly, his attention already on his computer screen.

Abigale turned to head back to her desk wondering if Elsie might have been a better person to ask. Without Sam here, the office definitely lacked the positive attitude. She changed direction and headed towards the volunteer area that Sam had gotten them all to call the bullpen. They needed to generate some positive presence out there. The campaign wasn't going to take the day off.

**

****

Hoag Hospital

Orange County, CA

Mr. and Mrs. Seaborn had left about 10 minutes ago, and, to Sam's surprise, they'd claimed they were going to get coffee. Josh watched the Vice President follow Abbey and Donna out of the room, and he knew they were all leaving to give him a minute with Sam. He didn't know if he looked especially needy right now, but Donna's insistence that she should call CJ and Toby, followed by Dr. Bartlet's sudden recollection that she had to call her husband, and Hoynes need to check in with his office, left him alone with Sam. 

"So," he began, not sure what to say. Last night, he'd been possessed by a desire to be sure Sam was all right. He could not have stayed in D.C. even if it meant defying the President. Now, face to face, he could think of nothing to say.  


"Sothanks for coming out here, Josh."

"I had to."

Sam caught his eye and searched intently for meaning. Nodding, he agreed. "I know."

"Sam" again he faltered, not sure what to say. Hiding behind his profession, he launched into an analysis of Sam's latest polls. "Your numbers are up. The people of Orange County are feeling particularly patriotic today, and, once it was announced that you'd got in harms way to protect the Vice President, your numbers really rebounded"

"I figured they would. Josh, is there something you're not telling me?"

"No. YesI don't even know." He looked intently at his friend. Sam just sat quietly bearing the scrutiny, sensing that Josh was working through something.

  
"Why are you doing this?" Josh blurted out the question, knowing he sounded whiny and not caring in the least.

"Doing what?"

"Running for office."

"The widow"

Josh waved away his friend's words. "No, not the story you've been telling. I want the real reason."

Sam shifted slightly and settled back against his pillow. "That's what Toby asked. He says it's because I need to do it. He says I should have done it a long time ago."

"I don't care much what Toby says. I want to know what you think."

"Josh, I thinkI think he's right. I should have done this a long time ago. Do you know that I've always wanted, all my life, to work in the White House? Do you know that I always imagined that one day I would work for the President? _Work for_not _be_ president."

Josh waited for him to continue.

"You and I always used to talk about backing the Real Thing. I thought we'd found him"

"We did."

Sam shifted uncomfortably, trying to keep from making too sudden a move with his right arm. The drugs were wearing off and he felt a dull throbbing. _He was close, but he lied._ Sam thought, burying that thought deep inside because it felt so disloyal, somehow, not to back this man for whom he had forsaken not one, but two lives. He'd given up on his life in New York, and, though now he knew it had not been the right life for him, he had given it up at the time with no more recommendation than Josh's goofy grin. He had only recently begun to understand that he'd also given up a life of his own in Washington, DC. He had lived for this presidency. He had no life of his own. Every waking and sleeping moment was consumed by his job, and no matter how hard he worked, he still didn't think he was doing enough. "Non sum qualis eram," he whispered, partially to Josh, but mostly to himself. 

"What does that mean?" Josh wondered why he was surrounded by men who liked to quote things in Latin.

"I am not what I once was."

Josh let out a breath of air almost in a hiss and repeated his question, feeling for all his education, like an idiot next to this man. "What does that mean?" 

"When I first started to work for The President"

"When he was Governor?  


Sam nodded and continued. "I was thrilled to be writing the words he would speak. Nothing excited me more than knowing that I was helping to craft his message." Sam smiled, his eyes still focused on some distant memory, and Josh was surprised at how familiar that look on his friend's face was. He knew _that_ Sam. He remembered that Sam. It surprised him that he had not known until this moment how much he missed that Sam.

Sam sat in his bed attached to a monitor, and an IV drip, with a gash in his arm that had taken 22 stitches to close. Yet, the look in his eyes was for Josh. He was staring into Josh's eyes as if willing him to understand what he was saying. "I was astonished, amazed, and more than a little excited to be able to see a speech take shape and then to hear him deliver those words_my_ words...I was happyI was grateful to be allowed along for the ride." Sam smiled, his eyes focused on some memory where he could clearly see his own elation at being the President's speechwriter.

"And now?" Josh asked, slightly afraid of the answer.

"NowI'm not grateful anymore. I mean, I'm grateful for the opportunity, but I no longer feel like I'm being allowed to play with the big kids." He looked away briefly, but turned back to Josh. "I don't want to write words for other people."

  
"Even if the 'other people' is the President?" Josh's voice rose a few octaves and decibels.

"It's not enough anymore. I want to fight for the things I believe in. I want to be the one making the calls. I don't want to _find_ the Real Thing, or _work for_ the Real Thing, Josh, I want to _be_ the Real Thing."

Slowly, Josh allowed a smile to spread across his face that rivaled the one that had pulled Sam out of that meeting all those years ago. "That I can understand."

**

****

Old Ebbets

December 28

Leo McGarry hated business lunches masquerading as casual lunches. He'd been sitting here talking over old times with a guy he hadn't seen in years and pretending to be interested in pictures of his grandkids, when they both knew they were here for another reason.

Finally, Leo took charge of the meeting. "Now, Sean, what was this all about? You didn't call me up out of the blue to swap campaign stories and show me pictures of your grandkids."

Sean leaned forward. "I know. This isn't like me, butyou know I've been working for the DNC. I just got back from LA."

Alarms went off in Leo's head. This had something to do with Sam? 

Sean noticed the reaction and plunged into the heart of the matter. "Leo, you know that kid who works for Sam Seaborn?"

"Will Bailey?"

"NoScott, something?"

"Scott Holcombe."

  
"That's it. If I were you, I'd look into that boy's background."

"Sean, what are you trying to say?"

"I don't think your Sam Seaborn knows whose company Holcombe keeps."

"You can't give me more than that?"

"I wish I could. I will give you one name. I saw him with several people, but I only knew one by sight. The other two, looked familiar, but, well" He laughed a hearty laugh and tapped two fingers against his forehead. "The memory isn't what it used to be."

"But the one you recognized?"

"Oh, yeah. I know for a fact that I saw Scott Holcombe having drinks with Kevin Khan. Now, whether it was casual or something else, I couldn't say, but I thought you should know."

"Why not tell Sam?"

"I don't know Sam. Would you trust the word of a stranger on a thing like this?"

Leo considered. "No. Probably not."

"Well, I better get going, Leo. It was good to see you again. Let's not make it so long next time."

"Yeah. Sure." Leo stood and shook the man's hand, then he headed straight back to the White House. He had a few calls to make.

**

To Be Continued


	13. part 13

****

Non Sum Qualis Eram part 13

By Ecri

See Part One for Disclaimer and Spoilers.

Hoag Hospital

December 28

Sam Seaborn watched the nurse as she went through her discharge routine. "Don't get the arm wet. Cover it in a plastic bag when you shower. We want to see you back next week so we can see how it's healing. Then, of course, we'll need to take the stitches out in a few weeks." She kept talking pleasantly as she handed him a sheet of paper, a prescription for pain killers, and helped him off the bed. 

He hadn't been out of bed much the last two days, so being upright felt a little weird. As the nurse left, she let Donna enter.

"Hey, Sam. How are you feeling?"

"Better." He took a couple of steps towards the door, and swayed a little, putting his hand to his head. 

"Take it easy, Sam! You're a bit wobbly." Donna supported Sam for a moment as he got his equilibrium back.

"Thanks, Donna."

She smiled. "Scott is at the entrance, trying to get the press to leave, but, it might be easier"

"To face the music now?"

"A quick word, and a wavelet your constituents know you're okay."

"They're not my constituents, yet."

  
"They will be."

Sam let that go without comment. "All right. Let's go."

"Josh, the Vice President, and the First Lady want to meet you at your office, so they figured if they let that leak there might be fewer reporters here."

Sam looked through the doors at the crowd. "Worked like a charm."

"I guess it could be worse."

As they passed the admitting desk, a nurse called out to them. "Mr. SeabornYou have a call."

"Here?"

The nurse nodded. "The gentleman claims he tried your room, but you'd already left."

Sam nodded and reached for the phone, knowing who it was. "What is it, Toby?"

"How'd you know it was me?"

"Easy, Josh is at my office waiting for me. Leo and The President would wait until I got there. You, on the other hand are impatient."

"What about me?" CJ's voice came through, bringing a smile to Sam's face.

  
"Is this a conference call? Who else is there?"

"No one else." Toby took over. "We wanted to check in with you before you leave the hospital. Any chance of avoiding the press?"

"The Secret Service is trying to hold them at bay, but Scott seems to think we should take some questions."

"Take questions? While you're hopped up on painkillers?"

"I'm not hopped up' Toby!"

"Sam, you probably aren't up to facing the press." CJ answered.

"CJ, I can hear the frown in your voice. I'll be fine."

"Can't you go out the back way or something?" Toby asked.

They heard a muffled question. Then Sam's voice came back to them. "Apparently, the press is thicker around back. They seem to expect me to go out that way."

"Well, okay, then, the unexpected it is."

"Stop worrying. I'll call you from my office." Sam hung up thanking the nurse. He headed for the doors, Donna on his arm. It seemed casual enough, but only Sam and Donna knew that if Sam lost his equilibrium again, Donna could support his weight without anyone noticing.

Sam's eyes locked on Donna's just before they opened the door to leave. "Thanks, Donna." His eyes said more than his words.

"You're welcome, Sam." 

Scott met them outside, and the three of them made their way to the car.

**

****

Seaborn Campaign Headquarters.

Josh stared at the numbers Will Bailey laid out before him. He'd expected this kind of rise since the attack on Sam and the Vice President, but he had expected Sam to take advantage of the situation. More news cameras at his events meant he could really get his message out there. "His numbers are rising. What do you plan to do with it?"

"Hope they keep rising?" Will had a feeling that wasn't the smartest answer, but he was too tired to care.

"Hope?" Josh leaned forward in his chair. "You better be doing more than that."

"We've got a rally planned for tomorrow afternoon. And next week, after the New Year's Parade, we've got him speaking beforesome women's group." Will finished vaguely waving his hand in the air as if trying to capture his thoughts.

"The Women Lawyer's Association of Orange County is not _some women's group_. Will, are you even awake? Sam's numbers show a good climb, and that's probably due to the" Josh felt the words stick in his throat. The idea of Sam being seriously hurt had haunted him since he'd first been called in the middle of the night. He'd thought it would dissipate with time, once Sam was well, but it hadn't happened yet. Not wanting to use a word full of violent connotations, he went for the more generic, the more sterile. "due to the incident. Now, while all the news media are hovering around asking questions about his health, the attack, and his recovery, he has an audience for his issues! You know this, Will! You aren't some small time hick who got lucky on the last election, are you?"

Josh's voice was raised, but he really didn't care who heard him. He wanted to wake up this bozo intent on ruining whatever slim chance Sam might have at winning this election. 

"Look, Mr. Lyman, I understand your concerns. I appreciate that the White House has an interest in how well Sam goes beyond just getting a democrat in the California 47th. I know you're all his friends! But the number of calls I'm getting from White House staffers in a single dayit's a wonder the country hasn't come to a screeching halt!"

"Listen Bill Bailey"

"It's Willand I'll have you know that if I sound like some hick who's out of his element or in over his head, that's because I work hard, and I'm tired! I worked hard on Wilde's campaign and we won that! I've put in more than my share of hours between each of these campaigns and comforting a grieving widow, so if you don't like it"

Disgust dripped from Josh's voice. "You're tired? You work hard? When you've had to write 80% of the President's stump speeches, work on the new budget, act as advisor and counsel to the President of the United States, handle a boss who bounces balls on your window when he wants to talk to you, and coworkers who continually shout you down" Josh stopped himself and took a deep breath. This wasn't helping, and from the look on Bailey's face, he wasn't making his point all that clearly. 

"All I'm trying to say is Sam has done more in the last 6 months than you have, and he's not complaining. He's been stabbed, and he's not complaining. If you don't think you can run this campaign, you should have told Sam straight out in the beginning."  


"I did!"

"You what?"

"I wanted Scott Holcombe to run this race."

"Scott Holcombe? He's your Media Relations Guy?"

"Yeah. I'm sure it even says that on his business cards. Are we done? I have a campaign to get back to."

"We're done." Josh left Will's office and headed for Sam's. On the way, his cell phone rang. He snapped it open more violently than usual. "Josh Lyman."

"Josh, it's Leo. Are you alone?"

"Yeah," He shut Sam's door. "What do you need."

"It's about Scott Holcombe."

Leo had Josh's full attention. 

**

Kerry watched as reporters gathered in front of their doors. "Vultures." She whispered it, but Michelle heard her. "Be careful what you say when they come in here."

Angela came up behind the two. "Well that'll be any minute. Sam called from the car. They'll be here" She paused as a car pulled up in front of the offices. "now." She smiled at her friends and went back to her desk.

Sam, Donna, Scott, and the reporters all streamed into the offices. Sam was speaking, giving an update on his condition and on his commitment to the congressional race. "This won't slow me down." He assured them. After a few more minutes, and a few comments from the Vice President and First Lady, who had been waiting for Sam, the reporters left to file their stories before their deadlines.

Abbey looked Sam over. "Okay, get to your office and sit. You look tired."

"I'm fi.."

"If you say you're fine, you're in serious trouble."

"I'm ffirst going to thank my staff." He turned to face the Sam Seaborn Supporters. "Thank you. I hear we had quite a day yesterday. How'd you hold a rally without a candidate?"

"A story for another day, I'm sure." Abbey Bartlet glared at Sam, her arms crossed. 

"Yes, another day." He straightened and headed back towards his office.

Once he reached his office, he found Josh and Abigale. Abigale was not happy. Josh seemed an odd combination of defensive and nervous.

"What's going on?"

  
Abigale glared at Josh once more, and then turned to Sam. "I found him going through your office, and Scott's office." The way she said it made it clear that Josh would have been left alone if he'd only gone through Scott's office.

"Josh?"

"What? IYou are not making me defend myself!"

"Josh, I'm too hopped up on painkillers to care. Abigale, thanks so much for your diligence, but he's an old friend, and besides, what kind of damage can he cause to a democratic campaign in the California 47th?"

Abigale could see Sam wanted to rest, but she couldn't let that comment go. "He couldn't do a lot of damage since we all know you're going to win."

Sam smiled. Abigale glared once more at Josh, and then she left. Sam sat at his desk, waiting for an explanation. 

All he got was questions. "Sam, how much do you trust Scott Holcombe?" 

Sam frowned. "He's a good guy. I mean, I don't personally like him, and I wouldn't hang out with him, but then I wouldn't hang out with Bruno Gianelli, either."

"Bruno gets the job done."

"That's what I'm saying."

"I thought you hated Bruno."

"Hate is such a strong word. I prefertolerate. I tolerate Bruno."

  
"Since when?"

"Josh, I'm tired. Why are you snooping through Scott's office?"

"I don't like him."  
  
"I'll remember that."

**

****

Seaborn for Congress Campaign Offices

January 1

Sam Seaborn sat at his desk, awkwardly typing with one hand. His right arm was still in a sling, and his staff spent more time yelling at him about overusing it than Toby used to spend bouncing balls on the window between their offices.

Josh, Donna, the First Lady, and the Vice President had all left before New Year's Eve, and the office was getting back to normal.

He'd spoken to Toby a few times since that night in the hospital, and Toby still sounded like he didn't believe Sam was okay. Sam smiled at the thought. Toby's overprotective tendencies were slightly easier to take when he was 3,000 miles away.

He looked up from his computer just as one of the volunteers was walking by the door. "Geraldine, hang on a minute. Is Scott back? He was supposed to go over the numbers with me this morning."

Geraldine shook her head. "He hasn't been here all day. You want me to check with Angela?"

Sam considered it. "No. Don't bother."

Sam returned to his desk. Scott had been spending a lot of time out of the office lately. When he returned, he always had a story about meeting with various people to line up various appearances or persuade someone to speak out in support of Sam, but the things never seemed to come to fruition. He'd asked Will about it, but Will seemed more and more distracted. Sam knew Will was tired. He recognized the exhaustion from seeing it in the mirror for years. Still, Will had gotten him into this, and he'd believed Will was the best man available. 

Now, he was starting to wish someone else had been available.

His thoughts came to a screeching halt when Elsie literally ran into his office. "You need to get to the parade. The car is waiting."

"What car?"

"The open convertible from which you will wave at the people of Orange County."

"Open convertible? We aren't really going to do that? Is this even legal? Campaigning in a parade seems a little off to me."

Elsie shrugged. "City Council didn't have a problem."

"Oh. Is Webb going to be there?"

"Yeah. He's got a car, too."

"Okay, thenyou knowequal time and all that."

"Sam, the car's waiting."

"Right. Let's go."

**

****

The White House

Office of the Press Secretary

January 1

CJ Cregg didn't like the idea at all. She stared at Toby, who on her sofa. "Parade? Open car? Is he crazy?"

"Bill Bailey or Sam?"

"His name is Bill Bailey?"

"It'sno, that can't be right."

"Doesn't matter. He's crazy whatever his name is."

"The assassin wasn't after Sam. He was after the Vice President."

"Yeah, so? Josh wasn't a target. Neither was the President."

"What I'm saying is that if the Vice President isn't with him, it's unlikely someone willyou knowleap into the car and try tohim."

"I still don't like it. What's the rally?"

He looked down at Donna's memo. "It looks like it's got something to do with the ACLU. That'll go over big."

"I'll have you know I was very active with the ACLU when I lived in California."

"You were in Berkley, not the California 47th!"

"What about the California 47th?" Josh stood in the doorway, a file in his hand.

"We're going over this schedule Sam's campaign director faxed to me."

"And"

"We're not happy about it."

Josh nodded, distractedly. 

CJ looked at Toby, who shrugged, and then returned her attention to Josh. "Did you have something to share or are you just planning on keeping everyone out of my office."

Josh looked at the two of them, took a step inside CJ's office, and closed the door behind him. "I was talking to Bill Bailey"

"Will Bailey." Toby corrected, finally remembering the man's name.  


"I don't care. He sounds burned out. Like he's in over his head."

Toby sat up straight, concern briefly written all over his face.

"The thing is, Will mentioned Sam's Media Relations guy. His name is Scott Holcombe."

"Where have I heard that name before?"

He handed his file to Toby. "Leo asked me to check him out. Scott once worked for a guy named Mitch Taylor. Mitch used to do a lot of campaigning. He'd work for anyone. Scott was his right hand man, until they worked together on Seth Gillette's campaign."

"He quit Seth Gillette's campaign, didn't he."

"Yeah. He started working as a low level assistant for Kevin Khan."

"Notnot Sam'snot _that_ Kevin Khan?" CJ stared at Josh not at all sure what else she should do.

Josh nodded. "I've been doing some digging. A friend of Leo's saw Scott with Kevin days before he took the job with Sam. Thissays that the two seemed very chummy. Kevin gave Scott a think envelope, and the next day he flew back to LA. 

CJ waved a hand to get Josh's attention. "That can't be right. Didn't Scott work for Wilde's campaign?"

Josh nodded. "He worked for Wilde, but met with Kevin right after Sam announced he was running. A couple of days later, he was named Sam's Media Relations guy."

"You think this was a setup?"

"I do, and there's more."  


Dread filled Toby's mind and heart. He found himself unable to keep his seat. "What?"

"Scott and Kevin weren't alone at that meeting."

"Who else was there?" CJ demanded, hating the way this was going.

"Tom and Sarah Jordan."

CJ's eyes widened in shock. "Are you suggesting..."

Toby ran a hand over his scalp. "They vowed to bring him down if they could. I don't remember what they said exactly. I know Sam never took it as a serious threat so much as an indication of how betrayed they felt."

"Tom Jordan is a racist!" Josh declared balling his fists.

"That doesn't help us, now, Josh!"

"Okay, boys. Opposite corners." CJ glared at the two until they took a few steps away from each other. "We have more important things to deal with than Tom Jordan's racism."

"We have to tell Sam." Josh whispered the words, knowing how much such news could hurt his friend. That Kevin Khan, Tom and Sarah Jordan, and Scott Holcombe would conspire against him

Toby was shaking his head. "Let's tell Leo first."

**

****

Seaborn Family Home

January 1

Olivia Seaborn stared at the images of her son on the evening news. She'd been thrilled that he'd be home for at least a few months, but she hadn't seen him more than a handful of times since he'd first arrived in November. Christmas had been almost perfect. Norman's visit had been irritating, to say the least, but once he'd gone, she and Sam, and the cousins and aunts and uncles had had a wonderful time. She could see, however, that her son's mind wasn't on the holiday cheer. She asked him about it, and the answer had amazed her.

"I'm just thinking."

"What are you thinking about?"

"I guessabout Lisa."

"Lisa? Why on Earth would you give her a second thought?"

"I started out by thinking about Mallory."

"I'm sorry about that, dear. She shouldn't done that."

"No, but it wasn't her fault. She can't help being afraid. I'm doing the one thing she's blamed for her parents breakup."

"If she loved you, she wouldn't hurt you."

"That's not true." His voice dropped to a whisper, and Olivia saw the pain in his eyes before he became engrossed by the bowl of eggnog.

"Why, of course it is!"

"What happened to you always hurt the ones you love'."

"That's just an expression."

"Are you saying Dad never loved either of us?"

She turned away from him then, her full attention on the last biscuit, as she pretended it was stuck to the cutter. "That's not"

She felt his warm embrace and turned into it, embarrassed at her reaction to his words.

"I'm sorry, mom. I shouldn't have said that. I know his dropping by was hard for you."

"Don't you be silly, Samuel Seaborn!"

She had stopped using his middle name. She had never used it often, but she'd completely ignored it since they'd found out about his father. She couldn't help but wonder if he'd noticed. "Mom, I'm so sorry."

She knew then that it wasn't just for his words. He was sorry she'd been hurt. He was sorry she'd had to deal with his father on Christmas Eve. He was sorry he hadn't been here when she'd found out about it. He was sorry his life had taken him so far from her.

She stopped then, the tears drying up almost instantly at the thought of her son taking so much pain and responsibility on himself. "You listen to me, Sam. I'm fine. Your father hurt me, yes, but I'm sure he loves us both. He just doesn't quite comprehend the concept of monogamy."

Sam nodded, but she still saw something in his eyes. Pain? Regret? She couldn't really tell. 

"Sam, why are you thinking about Lisa and Mallory?"

"And Ainsley." Sam added, turning back to his half-mixed eggnog. "I guess I didn't expect to be alone this year. Mallory walking back into my life just when Ainsley had walked awayit seemed too perfectly timed to be anything other than fate."

"But when Mallory decided not to come for Christmas"

"I remembered Ainsley. She said she didn't really love me, and that I didn't love her. I spoke to her just before I left Washington. She said she did love me after all. She asked me if I loved her."  


Olivia frowned. Sam had been with Mallory by then. Ainsley had no place trying to break them up. She knew Sam would defend her if she said anything, so she kept the thought to herself. "Go on," she urged.

"Mal said love wasn't the issue. She said she loved me but...."

"But what?"

"She said, Sometimes that's not enough.'"

"And Lisa?" Olivia hated to bring up the cruel woman who had so hurt her Sam, but she could tell he needed to talk.

"LisaLisa. You know, no one at the White House knew what really happened. Well, except for Josh, of course. And Donna. When a guy's your best man, he notices when you don't get married."

"How can they not know?"

"They know I didn't get married. They don't know details."

"That's probably for the best. Why relive it by retelling it?"

"That's what I thought."

"Then how is it Donna knows"

"She was in the right place at the wrong time."

"Sam, honey, Lisa, Ainsley, and Mallory aren't all that's bothering you."

"They're the bulk of it. That and"

"What?"

"I get the feeling I'm not getting anywhere."

Olivia laid a hand on Sam's shoulder, gently turning him to face her. "Sam, you work in the White House. You're running for Congress. Why would you see this as failure?"

"I don't think I'm going to win."

"You said your numbers were up."

"Sometimes, that's not enough."

Olivia sighed as she recalled how sad he'd looked. Why couldn't Sam find true love? It made no sense to her that these girls always hurt him. 

Now, watching Sam on the evening news as he tried so hard to win a seat that everyone said he could never win, she could see the determination, the desire to succeed even in the face of certain failure. She knew he was right, however. When the anchorman mentioned Webb's race and that Sam's slight gain seemed to be shrinking, she remembered what her son had said, and whispered it to the screen. Sometimes that's not enough. She only wished she could make things right for him. 

**

****

Seaborn Campaign Offices

January 3

Theresa handed Sam the morning papers, and a cup of coffee. He'd been paying careful attention to the papers lately, and she could sense his anticipation every time she handed them to him. It was more than anticipation, though, it was laced with dread. She wondered if he expected his numbers to plummet overnight, or if he was expecting some sort of disaster. Whatever it was, she watched him as he read the headlines on his way to his office each morning. Most days, he showed little reaction, and she thought today would be much the same, but as she watched, his steps slowed. Just before he got to his office, his body went rigid, and he changed direction, heading towards Scott's office. Theresa picked up her phone and dialed Abigale's number. 

**

Abigale walked briskly down the corridor towards Sam Seaborn's office. The call from Theresa hadn't told her much, but she knew Sam was upset. She had told Theresa to gather the troops on her side of the office and meet her in the lobby with all the people she and Angela could muster. 

Then she'd set off to find Angela. Finding her in the conference room compiling some reports, she told the other woman what was going on and that she was getting every one together so they could be in on it.

"On what? We have nothing concrete to tell anyone."

Abigale smiled. "Yeah, but you and I both know that they're gonna want to be here to see whatever's about to happen as it happens instead of us having to tell them about it later."

"Ooh. Good point." She considered having to face an angry group of scowling Sam Seaborn supporters once they'd discovered that they'd missed something important. Assuming there was something to miss, and she and Abigale weren't merely reading between the lines. "Let's go round up the troops."

**

To Be Continued


	14. part 14

****

Non Sum Qualis Eram part 14

By Ecri

****

See Part One for Disclaimer and Spoilers.

**

Scott Holcombe sat in his office, feet propped up on his desk and crossed at the ankle. He spoke into a telephone headset, and scribbled on a legal pad he had rested on his lap. 

"It's all set, Kev, don't worry about it." Pause. "Well, tell Sarah to chill. I've got it all under control." Pause. "Look, the numbers are going back down. He's already lost 3% of his gain. By the end of the week, people will forget about him again." Pause. "Not with the way I worded the last poll. I promise you, the questions are so loaded, they'd be confiscated in Vegas!" He laughed enamored of his own wit.

"Kevin, just put Tom on if he's so worried!" Pause. "Tom! You've got nothing to worry about! Seriously, Sam Seaborn's campaign is about to take a dive." Pause. "Fine. I'll tell you. I've just accepted a sizable donation for his campaign." Pause. "Why? Because only a feather pillow is softer than this money! He's come out and stated in no uncertain terms that he favors Campaign Finance Reform. Once word of this windfall hits the press, can you spell scandal? Besides, I've also leaked the text of his next two speeches to Webb's people. They'll know exactly how to respond!" Pause. "No, don't worry. He's not even here yet, and I'm" He spun slightly in his chair as he spoke, and his eyes beheld a vision in the doorway that stopped his heart. 

Sam Seaborn stood staring at his Media Relations expert from the doorway of the man's office. His face was clouded, angry, and his lips were set in a firm, grim line. His brows furrowed, and his eyeshis eyes seemed on fire. The rage reflected off of them and bounced around the room like a ball on a racquet ball court, and when he finally spoke, Sam's voice was soft as a whisper, low, deep, and menacing.

"Hang up."

"Uhgotta go." He listened as Tom put Kevin on the phone, but didn't know what to tell the man. "No. Kev, no. I gotta go. He's here."

"Is that Kevin?" Sam took a step closer and reached for the headset, but Scott ended the call.

Sam didn't care. "Stand up."

Scott held out his hands in a placating gesture as he slid his feet off his desk. "Sam, Sammy, come on! Whatever's wrong, we can work it out! So what's the problem?"

"Pack your things and go."

Sam spat his words in short commanding sentences. He wanted nothing more than to hit this man who'd led him on and sabotaged an already shaky campaign. He might even have enjoyed it. He'd once been the kind of man who settled things with a quick right cross or an easy one-two punch. He'd once been a man whose arguments could deteriorate into brawls, especially when someone he loved was being threatened. It had taken him a long time to conquer that side of his psyche, but he had done it, and he wasn't about to undo it for this base creature.

"Did you hear me? I want you gone."

"Sammy" Scott laughed, searching his mind to find a way to salvage this situation. "SaMr. Seaborn, I don't think I've given you any cause to fire me."

Sam took one slow step closer to the desk, and Scott found himself sliding backward in his office chair to maintain the distance between them. "How about conspiracy? How about fraud? How about" Sam paused, looking for a word to express his contempt. "How about dishonesty?"

Scott stood, his face reflecting both his surprise at the situation and shock at Sam's reaction. He'd been in this game a long time, and he'd been sure Sam would be easily crushed. He'd thought of the man as weak, and likely to fold when faced with betrayal. He had in no way expected the wimp to turn warrior. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm on your side, Sa"

Sam rounded the desk and took a hold of Scott's lapels propelling him back into the wall behind him. He spoke through clenched teeth, seething at the betrayal he felt. "I want you out. I want you gone. That last piece you leaked to the press or to Webb, or whoever is in on this with youI planted it. I know it was you because you were the only one who had it. You tell Tom and Kevin that it's not going to work. I am not going to disappear. I am going to win this thing, and then I will be their worst nightmare."

Scott grabbed Sam's hands trying in desperation to wrest them from his suit. He'd never seen this look in the man's eyes. He'd never been warned about this. "Sam, let go"

Sam just pulled Scott forward and slammed him back again into the wall, a look of rage and utter fury tainting his features turning them from heaven to hell. 

  
Scott looked into those eyes and was sure Sam was about to hurt him. 

"Sam, let go."

Scott blinked. The words that were screaming in his head had echoed through the room, but they had not come from his own mouth, and certainly, Sam hadn't spoken them. Scott squirmed slightly craning his neck to see over Sam's shoulder. There in the doorway stood a man Scott recognized from the newspapers. Balding, with a full beard, he stood, hands in his pockets as if about to take a leisurely stroll rather than stopping a homicide.

Scott almost relaxed, but when he looked back at the man who held him, his blood ran cold. Sam Seaborn had not loosened his grip. His rage had not diminished. If anything, he leaned in closer to his quarry so his face was mere millimeters from Scott's.

"Sam, come on. Let go."

For a moment Scott was sure Seaborn hadn't heard his friend. Then, almost magically, Sam's grip on his lapels loosened all but imperceptibly. The fury drained from his eyes leaving behind sorrow, pain, betrayal and disappointment. It was almost painful to see.

Sam dropped Scott's lapels, bringing his hands down to his sides. He took a few steps away from the desk, allowing Scott some personal space. He glared at Scott, the rage momentarily rekindled. "Get out now, and don't come back."

Scott nodded, and started to get his stuff together. 

  
Sam interrupted. "Leave it. I'll have someone box it up and send it to you."

"I'm not leaving my"

"Now, Scott. Right now."

Scott straightened his crumpled suit, fixed his tie, and, not once taking his eyes off Sam Seaborn, as if he didn't trust the man not to attack him, he backed out of the room and was gone.

Toby stepped aside to let him leave, then stared down the hallway, gauging his progress. Once he was out of sight, Toby turned his attention to Sam. 

With the immediate threat, the object of his wrath, gone, Sam seemed deflated. His shoulders were slightly slumped, and his eyes intently studied the floor.

"I guess you found out. I'm sorry, Sam." Toby wasn't sure Sam heard at first, but after an unnaturally long pause, the younger man, raised his eyes, a sad smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Pleasedon't."

  
"Don't what?"

Sam sighed, raising his eyes to the ceiling before again looking his friend in the eye. "I don't need sympathy."

"You quite possibly do."

Sam scowled at Toby. "Tobywhy are you even here."

"Leo and Josh figured out what was going on. I volunteered to come here and help you get the campaign back on track."

"I'm no charity case."

"No. You're not. I don't see you as one, and I won't let you see yourself as one." 

"How do I let these things happen to me? How is it I'm such a poor judge of character?"

"You're not."

Sam snorted.

"Did you just snort?"

"I quite possibly did."

Toby's eyes searched Sam's for some hint about what he needed to hear. He had to somehow remind Sam how much he cared without making it seem that he had no confidence in the younger man. As he watched his deputy, it occurred to him with shocking abruptness why Sam might be so down. "Sam, I didn't see this coming. I didn't bail you out. That's not what happened here."

"Then what did happen?"  


Toby told him everything from Leo's friend's tip to Josh's file to Toby's decision to take a leave of absence to help Sam win. "Sam, you worked this out on your own, obviously, and though I'm dying to learn how, I need you to know I'm only here to help. I am not here to take over. I am not here because we don't think you can do this without us. I'm here because everyone at the White House wants to help you and no one can. I took a leave and I'm at your disposal."

"Does that mean I'm in charge?"

"I should warn you, I don't take direction well."

Before Sam could decide what to say, Will Bailey ran into the office, almost knocking Toby down.

"What just happened?"

"How do you mean?" Sam knew Will liked Scott, so he wasn't sure how to tell him.

"I just saw Scott, and he said he was leaving and wouldn't be back. Kerry told me he got what he deserved and that you had kicked his ass out in the street where it belonged."

Sam smiled. "Kerry said that?"

"Yeah, right before Michelle told me that you and Toby Zeigler had uncovered a conspiracy so big that she was going to do a room by room search for the Cigarette guy from the X-Files. Theresa said she wasn't sure what was going on, but Scott was always pretty stupid, so she was glad he was leaving."

Sam snorted again.

Toby smiled. Silently thanking God that Sam had such a loyal crew of volunteers and office staff, he still couldn't let that awful noise go unmentioned. "You just snorted again."

"Yes, I did."

"Don't do that in public."

"I'll do my bestbut you knowif it's like tripping over things, I won't have much control."

Will continued talking as if the other two men hadn't spoken. "Geraldine said you had a vacancy to fill. Of course, then Theresa said she was tired of stupid people having so much control over the campaign. I wasn't sure what she was getting at, but I do know that Jesse and Premila were quite happy over Scott's departure. Money was changing hands, and Theresa mentioned an office pool"

Sam walked over to Will. "Will, you're babbling. I fired Scott. We'll pack his things and ship them to him."

"We arewhy? What"

"It's long, involved, and highly unlikely. Come on, I'll fill you in. Right after I kill some rumors." Sam turned and headed to his bullpen, wondering where his fans were getting their information.

**

Will Bailey could barely comprehend what Sam was saying. "Are you sure?" He glanced from Sam to Toby. "Conspiracy? Did he admit it?"

"Will, he did it. He was on the phone with them when we got to his office."

"HeI hired him. He worked for Wilde's campaign. He wasn'twas hehe was trying to sabotage Wilde's campaign?"

"I don't know for sure. He's worked for campaigns for almost every political party, which isn't so unusual. He could have been serious with Wilde, but either was recruited by Kevin to sabotage mine, orsomething."

Will nodded. "Are youSam, I'm going to have to resign."

"What?"

"I never saw this coming. I told you and Elsie I wasn't up to this. I'm tired. I should have been able to spot this"

"Will, if you want to resign, I won't stop you. It's been harder to keep you on board this campaign than it is to understand advice from Bruno Gianelli."

Will stared at Sam not comprehending.

"It's okay, Will. If you want to go, go. No hard feelings. Just, at least please stay in town long enough to vote for me." He held out his hand, and he and, after a moment of concentration, Will held out his own and they shook. 

"I'm sorry, Sam."

"It's okay."

Sam watched as he left the office.

Toby cleared his throat. "So, about that vacancy"

"You left a job at the White House to ask me if I needed help with my campaign? My campaign, which is, quite possibly, the fastest sinking campaign in congressional history"

"Sam, I'm not kidding around."

"How much damage has been done?"

"It won't be easy explaining away this kind of staff change so close to the election."

"No, it won't." He sat on the edge of his desk, and Toby got the distinct impression he might have fallen over if he hadn't. "I'm going to lose."

Toby felt rage akin to what Sam had felt earlier when he'd confronted Scott. "No."

"No, I won't lose?"

"No, I won't let you give up now. We are going at this full tilt. We either go in with the attitude that we will win, or we withdraw from the race now."

"I can win?"

"It's not a question. Say it like you mean it."

"I can win."

"You can do better than that."

"I can win!"

"Now you've got it."

"But, Toby? Cheerleading practice aside, you haven't seen my schedule of appearances."

"That's what's next."

**

****

January 6

CJ's Apartment

CJ rushed through her morning routine, pouring her coffee into a travel cup. She usually bought coffee on the way to work, but she didn't want to stop today. Shutting down the coffee machine, she grabbed her coat, cup, and briefcase and headed out the door.

It was the letter. She had finally felt like things were going back to normal when the letter had set her off again. Ron Butterfield's response to it hadn't helped.

She'd received no more letters, no e-mails, and no reason whatsoever to be afraid. The first letter had been enough. It had been from her stalker's brother. Odd, but she hadn't thought of him as having family. The brother wanted to see her, he said. He wanted to make her understand a few things.

The tone hadn't been overtly threatening, but CJ wasn't taking any chances. She was jumpy. She admitted it, but she couldn't help it.

Carol had suggested she see a counselor. It had sounded like a decent idea on the surface, but CJ wasn't ready for that.

She just wanted this to be over.

It wasn't until she was in her office again, reading the morning mail, that she discovered another letter. She didn't even open it before she called Ron Butterfield.

**  


****

January 6 

Toby watched Sam across the conference table. They hadn't gotten a lot of work done today. He had chalked it up to the injury at first, thinking maybe now that the dosage on the painkillers had been dropped, it was too much of a distraction, but he'd only been kidding himself. Sam wasn't in pain. He had problems of a different nature.

"Sam, if you'd like to do this later, we can."

"What? Why? I'm good."

Toby laid his pen down carefully to keep himself from throwing it. "Sam, you're barely listening to me. You've barely said two words to the staff since you've been back. Your speech the other day wasless than perfect."

"Excuse me, Toby, if I don't live up to your expectations!" 

"Sam, it's not my expecdo you realize that you have a real chance here? For the first time your numbers are seriously rising!"

"Yeah, it's amazing. All I had to do to get ahead in the polls was get in the way of an assassin!"

That stopped Toby. Was Sam having some kind of PTSD episode or was this some sort of depression brought on by the stress of the last few years and the shock of the attack? If only Abbey Bartlet were here to tell him these things.

"Sam"

"No. Ino. I'll be in my office, Toby."

Toby watched Sam leave. Whatever was wrong with Sam, he'd have to figure it out and fix it soon if Sam was going to have any chance of winning.

**

****

January 6 

10:34 PM PST

Sam Seaborn lay in bed too awake to think about sleeping, but unable to drag himself out of bed to do anything about it. He'd been sleeping poorly, and Toby had insisted he get to bed early to make up for it. 

He had a big day ahead of him tomorrow, and the President would be out here in less than three weeks. He had to make sure his place in the polls wasn't going to embarrass the President. After all, if his numbers took a nosedive, it would be hard to justify the President's visit.

He was upset with himself for having spoken to Toby the way he had. When Toby had brought up his rising numbers, he'd just been thinking about what had happened to him. The fact that he'd snapped had less to do with what Toby had said, and more to do with the way he felt. It wasn't so much that he was facing his own mortality, as he was sure most psychiatrists would tell him, although that may have started it. He'd had too much time to think as he sat in that hospital room. They'd told him the pills might make him emotional, but he hadn't been prepared to revisit the highest and lowest points of his life. His thoughts had ended up fixed on endings. His relationships all seemed doomed. Lisa, Laurie, Mallory, Ainsleyand why was that. Even his relationship with Josh, a man he'd loved like a brother

As he contemplated the many things he had to do and the possible reasons for his inability to sleep, the phone rang. 

He reached over, fumbling in the darkness and answered it. "Sam Seaborn."

"Sam? It's Josh. Did I call at a bad time?"

"No!" Sam sat up relieved to have someone to talk to rather than just dealing with his own dark thoughts. "It's good. What's up?"

"I wanted to be sure you were okay."

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure, buddy?"

"Of course I am."

"Okaybut the PTSD thing can come on you before you know what's happening."

"I don't have PTSD. I'm good, Josh."

"If you need to talk"

"I'm good, but I appreciate the call."

"Oh. Okay then."

Josh's silence said more than his words. "Josh, did Toby call you?"

"What? No! Of course not!"

"Josh!"

"Yeah he called me."

"I know I was testy today, but if you speak to him, please tell him I'm all right."

"I will once you convince me." 

Josh's voice was tinged with concern, and Sam realized he was trying to make up for all the times Sam was hurting and he hadn't noticed. Sighing, he tried to sound convincing. "Josh, I'm fine. I have had a few bouts withbut I am fine. I've been working hard, and I suppose I am fatigued, but I enjoy working hard. I wouldn't lie to you, Josh, I'm fine."

"Well, then why am I keeping you on the phone at this hour? Get some rest! I'll see you in a few weeks."

"Josh?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks!"

Josh hung up, letting Sam get some rest, but as he did, the Deputy Chief of Staff knew he hadn't done enough to earn Sam's gratitude, but he wasn't done yet.

****

**

January 10

Vice President's AA Meeting

"That's it then. See you all next week." John watched as the bulk of the attendees left the room, but he motioned for Leo to stay. When they were alone, he spoke. "How are the President's plans coming for the trip to Orange County?"

"Good. We should have a final itinerary soon."

"Sam's numbers haven't moved much lately."

"True, but at least they're not dropping anymore."

"If the President has any ideas on how we can get them moving in the right direction again, tell him I'd be willing to work on it."

Leo's eyes narrowed as he took in Hoynes' statement. "What's your interest here?"

"Sam's a good guy."

"I know that. What's your interest here?"

"Seaborn could be a good congressman, and I think it would do the party good to have a voice in Orange County."

Leo smiled, knowing the Vice President was keeping something from him, but willing to let it go for now. "Have it your way, John. I hear you've been asking for help and advice a lot lately."

"Yes, I have."

"That's new for you, isn't it?"

John's laughter surprised Leo. "You know, a year or two ago, I'd have taken offense at that remark."

"And now?"

"Now, I have to agree with you. I just decided I don't want to repeat the mistakes of my past. I have one shot at this. I want to make it work. If I'm going to do that, I have to realize I can't do it alone."

Leo wondered when this had happened. He'd spent so long thinking of Hoynes as the enemy that he hadn't noticed the change until someone pointed it out to him. He still didn't agree with a lot of the man's positions, but then he didn't always agree with his best friend, either. 

Hoynes had seemed a pompous jerk to him for a long time, but now, not so much. Though upon reflection, he could hardly consider that odd. After all, no one who worked in or near the White House could do so without seeing massive changes in their lives. Leo himself had started their first term married and living in his own home. Now, he was divorced, living in a hotel, and waiting to see if his daughter was going to turn into her mother. Change, after all, was the only constant.

"If you need anything from me, let me know. The President does support you as the next President, John. Nothing would make him happier than to pass the baton to you."

"Thank you, Leo, and thank him for me. It's a good thought, but a tough race. There have only been three Vice Presidents who have won the Presidency once their own Vice Presidency was over. This is not a sure thing."

Leo nodded. "You're right, but we can tackle this. I'm sure a lot of people would have bet money that you and the President couldn't win reelection.

John knew that was true. He was sure that was why someone had ordered a meeting to discuss the possibility of replacing him on the ticket. Considering his next ticket, he knew there were still a lot of decisions to make. "Now all we need is the other half of the Hoynes ticket."

**

****

January 15

Office of the Deputy Chief of Staff

Josh Lyman slammed the phone down in frustration. The noise brought Donna running in. 

"What was that?"

Josh ignored her. "I can't believe those idiots! Not a brain cell among the lot!"

Donna deduced what had happened and relaxed, letting her boss rant.

"They're defending him! How can they defend a judge who praises a convicted killer! He's throwing the man in jail and he stops to tell the killer that he's going to bring enlightenment to the other inmates! Now, his people won't take my calls!"

"Why are you calling him?"

Before Josh could answer the phone rang. He all but screamed his name by way of greeting.

"If I interrupted something, I can call back later."

"Sam! I didn't think it was you."

"I hope not!"

Josh took a deep breath to calm down and waved a reluctant Donna back to her desk. "What's up?"

"I wanted to touch base with you about the trip. Are you coming?"

"Sure. Wouldn't miss it."

"Great. I know you were here, but I sort of missed you on the last one. I think I was still in shock."

"Yeah, you were pretty hopped up, too."

"I wasn't!"

"How's it going? I hear your numbers are steady."

"They are. At least they're not dropping."

"I heard your latest sound byte. They're still bugging you about Rosslyn?"

Sam hesitated before answering, and Josh realized it wasn't just the press that made Sam uncomfortable talking about this.

"Since the stabbing, the Rosslyn thing got bumped to the forefront again. One of the local papers did a story about The Heroism of Sam Seaborn' that made me sound like a superhero or a saint."

"You probably don't want to hear this, but what you did was pretty brave. Both times."

"Bravery had nothing to do with it. It wasn't as if I gave it any thought. I reacted." He paused as he realized he was getting agitated all over again. "I don't want to talk about that."

"Okay. How about your next rally?"

"The one for the Health Care Workers Union?"

"That's the one." Josh asked Sam to read him some of the remarks.  


"Why, Josh?"

"So I can help."

"Josh, we had this conversation before. You can't."

"Like you couldn't help Toby with the Inaugural?"

Sam sputtered for a few moments, not sure how to respond but was, in the end, unable to lie. "How did you know?"

"We've known each other how long? Did you really think I wouldn't recognize your style?"

"Who else knows?"

"I don't know. No one said anything. They might not realize it's yours yet. It feltright to be reading your words in that speech. Once he's given it, though, I'm sure a few of us will figure it out." When Sam didn't respond, Josh took it as his cue to keep going. "You know, I always thought that if you ran for office, I'd be managing your campaign."

Sam didn't hide his surprise. "I wasn't so sure I'd run for office."

"I was. Though I admit I always thought I'd be running the campaign. You've got a lot to offer this country. No matter how this election goes, you remember that."

"Thanks, Josh." Sam knew what Josh wanted to say, or at least he imagined that he did. He knew they weren't as close as they once had been, but then, the President and Leo hadn't been best friends all their lives. Fluctuation, change, redefining of relationships, was all a normal part of life. Whatever his relationship with Josh was, Sam realized it was just evolving. If they were never again as close as they once had been, that was okay, but then again, they might be.

Sam smiled as he listened to Josh's words of encouragement.

**

To Be Continued


	15. part 15

****

Non Sum Qualis Eram part 15

By Ecri

See Part One for Disclaimer and Spoilers.

Newport Beach, Orange County, CA

Toby's Hotel Room

Toby went through his notes yet again. He'd finished with the speech hours ago, but he couldn't stop reading the notes, shuffling the papers, and playing with the phrasing in his mind.

He had turned on CNN, but the volume was low. If they mentioned Sam, he'd hear it.

Room service had deposited three beers with him earlier in the evening, and he was nursing the last one. How had he ended up here? There was no way Sam Seaborn could win the California 47th, yet that was what Toby wanted him to do. That was what Toby found himself trying to do.

The truth was, Toby liked winning. He hadn't done much of it in his career, but he'd gotten a taste of it with President Bartlet's campaigns. In the end, however, Toby wanted Sam to win, not for his own sake, but for Sam's. Sam had lost a lot of himself during the last few years since the MS had come out, and now, here, campaigning in the county that had once been his home, Toby had been privileged to see Sam Seaborn come alive again. There were still moments, Toby knew, where Sam was lost in the past, where he was reliving things he couldn't control, and torturing himself because these things had ended badly, but on the whole, Sam was so much more himself now.

Toby wasn't sure if four years as his deputy had been good to the younger man. He saw Sam's idealism was still there, but it was tempered with pragmatism. His loyalty was still there, but it was tempered with an underlying suspicion. At least, it had been in Washington. 

"Maybe it's the sunshine." Toby downed the last of his beer. Sam had unraveled before his eyes, and he had never noticed until the younger man had begun to pull himself back together. Maybe they had all unraveled and that was what had kept him from seeing it. Maybe Sam was just happy to be home.

He glanced at his watch. It was after 1:00 AM. His bleary eyes told him to go to bed, but his tired limbs didn't want to bother moving. Forcing himself up, he made himself a promise. Sam Seaborn would win.

**

****

Air Force One

January 28

Jed Bartlet could tell he didn't have an attentive audience, so he stopped speaking and waited for someone on his staff to notice.

Two minutes later, CJ looked up, confused, and Bartlet caught her eye. She had the grace to look embarrassed, but Bartlet smiled, and let her off the hook. "It's okay, CJ. What were you thinking about?"

Maybe it was the lateness of the hour, or the fact that she hadn't talked to anyone about any of this, but for some reason, she answered honestly. "Sam. The campaign. That we could have lost him last month. That I don't want to go to anymore funerals."

Jed nodded. "I know how you feel, Claudia Jean. We are doing our best to keep all of you safe. 

"I know that, sir."

"Sam's campaign, how do you read the numbers?"

"Well, the best polls show him trailing by 5 points. I never would have imagined it could be that close. Toby's really turned the campaign around."

"Do you think he will win?"

"I'd like him to win."

  
"Wouldn't we all?"

Something in the way he said it, or maybe it was the gleam in his eye, made her wonder out loud. "Sir, do you think he'll win?"

Jed Bartlet smiled the same smile she'd seem on his face the night he was asked if he'd run for reelection. She felt a shiver run down her spine.

"I do indeed, CJ. I do indeed."

**

****

Seaborn for Congress Rally

Orange County, CA

Charlie watched from the wings as President Bartlet raised Sam Seaborn's hand above his head, calling for him to be the next Congressman for the California 47th. Charlie suppressed a smile. The President could be exceptionally exuberant when he believed in someone, and he truly believed in Sam Seaborn.

While Charlie watched, he sensed someone coming up next to him. He spared a glance, then a word. "Hi, Toby. How's the campaign going?"

"Hey, Charlie. We've got better numbers that we should. Of course that was before you people closed down the 5, the 55, and the 405. What are you trying to do, sabotage us?"

Charlie grinned. "Well, I heard the President wants his Communications Staff back."

Toby laughed. "He may only get one of us back."

"That might be all right with him."

They watched the President speak, as Sam headed off stage. Seeing Charlie, he smiled.

"Hey, Charlie! How are you?"

"Good. How about you?"

"Busy, you know."

"Deanna says hi. She was really upset when you got hurt last month."

"Thanks, say hi for me. Tell her I got her card. That was sweet."

"Oh, yeah, I meant to mention to you, the next time you send my sister flowers, you tell me first."

"It was a congratulations for that Championship game."

"I know, but she's got boys sniffing around her now, andit just might be better if you give me a warning."

"She let you think they were from a boyfriend."

"For a week and a half. I couldn't figure out which one."

"How'd you figure out they were from me?"

"I was so upset, she thought I was going to have a stroke, so she showed me the card. You don't want me to go through that again."

"Whatever you say."

"I know." Charlie smiled to let Sam know he was kidding. He had long admired Sam Seaborn. He'd been touched by the man's words during his job interview with Josh Lyman. Charlie still smiled, when he didn't laugh out loud, when he thought of that interview. Josh had him flustered, and, looking back, he knew that the Deputy Chief of Staff had enjoyed every minute of it. Sam had walked in and not only defended Charlie's rights, but offered to help him sue the White House. At the time, he'd assumed Sam had been joking, but after he got to know him, he realized Sam Seaborn never joked about a person's rights. 

Over the years, he had become something of a fly on the wall. It was the nature of the job. In doing that job, he'd traveled all over the world, met all kinds of people in all walks of life from homeless people to kings and dignitaries. In all that time, and all those circumstances, he'd learned many things, but the one thing he knew without a doubt was that there were few men in the world, let alone in politics, who were as honest and dependable as Sam Seaborn. He'd defend you with his dying breath, and he didn't even have to agree with you. He'd take the blame for things not his fault if it were the expedient thing to do. He'd quit his job and leave the good life just to _try_ to make the world a better place.

Of all the people he knew, Sam was one of the ones he most wished his mom had met.

**

****

The Four Seasons Hotel

Newport Beach, Orange County, CA

Toby handed a beer to Josh and one to Sam before cracking one open for himself.

"I don't know what you're upset about, Toby." Josh took a long pull on his beer before continuing. "The evening went well."

"Fairly well. It might have done Sam more good if you hadn't closed down three major arteries in the middle of rush hour. AND" he paused and turned his full ire on his protégé. "If Sam hadn't crushed his political career beneath the wheels of the Bartlet Fiscal Plan!"   


"I didn't do it. It's not my fault!" Josh wanted to make that perfectly clear.

Sam laughed. "We established that, buddy."

Josh turned startled eyes on his friend. Sam hadn't called him that in ages. Wait. Had Sam ever called him that? He considered it a bad sign that he couldn't remember. Either he was getting senile at an early age, or he and Sam hadn't had enough casual conversations lately for him to retain the sort of vocabulary Sam favored. Both thoughts scared him, though not as much as the last time he'd been in town.

After Sam's release from the hospital, Sam had been a little less himself than usual. The First Lady had explained it away as a reaction to the painkillers or perhaps to the shock of having been stabbed. Josh could identify with all of that, so he'd stopped by Sam's office one last time before catching a taxi back to the airport to fly home.

That's when Josh had first realized that the bulk of Sam's staff wasn't happy with the way the Bartlet administration was handling Sam's campaign. Josh could recall a woman named Angela telling him off while he waited for Sam to get out of a meeting.

__

"Right now, we can work with what we've got, but we need the President to be asked what kind of Congressman Sam will make, and we need him to support Sam publicly and verballyand emphatically."

"He's been asked that. It's public record that he supports Sam."

"Not really." Sam suddenly appeared behind Josh, speaking in a whisper, and when Josh looked at him, he caught a glimpse of something in his expressive, blue eyes before he brought his features under control.

Josh just looked from Sam to Angela and back again, his confusion apparent.

Sam stepped forward, looking his friend right in the eye. He knew Josh was trying to rebuild their friendship, and helping him out here would go a long way in the right direction. "The question has always been put through CJ. The President has said he supports me through CJ. A personal endorsement might go a long way."

Josh's mind raced to locate a memory of the President saying to people other than his staff how well Sam would do. He couldn't recall a single time. "Sam, I'm so sorry. He talks about you all the time. We're always saying to each other how great it would be if you won, but I guess it was never"

"When it mattered?" Angela supplied the words and the sarcasm when Josh paused.

"Angela" Sam began, obviously agreeing with her, but also obviously not wanting to express it in quite those terms.

"She's right, Sam. I'll talk to the President/ You're gonna hear a lot more coming straight from his mouth. And when he comes here at the end of January, you won't be able to shut him up."

  
Sam smiled. "I never could before."

"About you, I meant."

  
"He's still coming, then?"

"Of course he is!"

Josh had wondered at the time why Sam had questioned whether the President was coming. Then he realized they hadn't really told Sam how much they supported this. They all talked about him coming back to the White House, which Sam, being Sam, translated as when you fail'. How could they have been so stupid?

"Josh! You haven't heard a word I said!" Toby screamed bringing Josh back to the present.   
  
Sam laughed. 

"Don't laugh! I'm still mad at you! What possessed you, Sam! You destroyed yourself tonight!"

The smile fell from Sam's face. "Toby, I will not allow the President to sacrifice himself for me!"

"Sam"Josh began, but wasn't sure what else to say. Frustrated, he shook his head at the memory of what Sam had done. "It pains me to say it, but Toby's right. You didn't need to do that. The President was fully prepared"

Sam took several steps towards Josh and cut off his words. "Josh, would the President have held off his announcement if any other democrat was running in this election?"

Josh shrugged. "I don'tI don't know. Probably not."

"You know he wouldn't have. He was trying to do this for me. Personally. Not for the Democratic Party. Not for the best interests of the country. Not because he wasn't ready. For me. Now tell me Josh, if I weren't running for this seat, would you have advised him to delay until Monday."

Josh looked at the floor for a moment, then back up at Sam. "No. But then, we probably wouldn't have been in Orange County this weekend."

Sam smiled. "Fair point."

"But, Sam, to decide for the Presidentto disregard his decision and force him out like thatare you sure that was the best thing to do?"

"Yes, please, I'd like to hear the answer to that question as well!" Everyone in the room stood as President Bartlet entered with his usual entourage of Secret Service Agents, aides, and advisors, along with CJ, Donna, and Charlie.

"Mr. President" Sam began but Bartlet cut him off.

"I told them my plan. The die-hards liked it. Most of your would-be constituency didn't, but you do have a point."

Sam blinked in surprise. "I do?"

"Yes. You're right. I was doing the right thingand it was the right thingfor the wrong reasons. You should know, however, that the decision wasn't yours to make."

"Yes, sir."

"That said, I want you to know I admire the way you did that. I don't know what kind of good it did anyone, but I admire you jumping in feet first."

"Thank you, sir."

"Next time, talk to me first."

"Yes, sir."

Bartlet looked around the room, noting the beers. "I see you're all hard at work, so I'll let you get to it."

Once he and his agents and aides left, CJ turned to Donna. "We let these guys alone for a minute and they head straight to the minibar. Let's see if there's any left!" 

  
Donna laughed and joined her.

Toby and Sam started to discuss the next day's itinerary. After a few moments, Sam looked around the room. "You know, all kidding aside, I've missed you guys." Sam's gaze took in all of them.

"We've missed you, too. The West Wing isn't the same without you!" Donna spoke before she thought about it, and now that the words were out, she could feel her face flushing. She drank some beer to cover it up and hoped no one, least of all Sam, saw it.

** 

The Next Day

Lobby, The Four Seasons Hotel

Newport Beach, Orange County, CA

CJ Cregg checked her watch noting that she had only a few minutes before Sam, Toby, and Josh would expect her in Josh's room to discuss the day's events. They hadn't discussed it, but they were all pleased with their progress. After a shaky start, the trip was shaping up. The President's support and affection for Sam Seaborn came across and was having the desired affect on Sam's numbers. She chuckled to herself. Sam Seaborn's numbers were certainly yeasty.

As she waited for the clerk at the front desk to find the FedEx Carol had sent her, she heard someone approaching. In minutes, she found Sam Seaborn standing next to her, having intercepted someone she didn't recognize. She hadn't heard Sam come up beside her, and hadn't realized he was there, until, at the moment the stranger had spoken, she'd felt Sam's firm grip on her right elbow as he maneuvered her slightly behind him, and intercepted the stranger's handshake.

She looked at Sam quizzically, only to find his attention riveted on the stranger. His expression was rather unSamlike in the furrowed brow, and angry, cautious eyes. She watched him shake the stranger's hand still sliding slightly in front of her, blocking her from the man's reach.

Something seemed to dawn on the man that had not dawned on CJ. He put his hands up and took a step backwards. She saw Sam nod towards the left and only then did she notice the Secret Service Agents who only now arrived. The agents moved into position, flanking Sam and CJ.

The stranger began speaking. "Mr. Seaborn, Ms. Cregg, I am sorry. I realize how this must look. I only wanted toto apologize forI'm so sorry. It was horrible, what you went through, Ms. Cregg, and I do sincerelyI meanmy brother has been troubled for some time, but I never dreamed he would break the law"

With sudden clarity, CJ understood what was going on. This was her stalker's brother. This was the man who had been sending letters to her in hopes of meeting. She felt her knees shake, and only Sam's grip on her elbow kept her from turning and running back to her hotel room. 

  
Sam smiled pleasantly at the man, and nodded in vague acknowledgement that he'd spoken. After a few awkward moments, Sam spoke directly to the man. "Look, I appreciate how you feel, and that you thought you had to see Ms. Cregg for some reason, but it would probably be best if you dropped it. You shouldn't have any contact with Ms. Cregg, her friends, or her family. We can make this official if you like. I'm her lawyer."

The man nodded, embarrassed, and mumbled another apology in CJ's general direction. He was ushered out of the hotel and into a car by the Agents.

Only when the car had sped away bearing the man and two agents to some distant office for questioning did Sam turn to face CJ. "Are you okay?" Layers of concern and anxiety fought for predominance in his voice and his features.

CJ ignored the question, if she even heard it. "How did you know he'd be here? How did you know _you_ should be here? How did you even know about him?" The questions tumbled out of her mouth before she consciously realized she was asking them.

"I knew. I told you I've been keeping tabs on you." He led her upstairs to the meeting with Toby. "I knew you'd never keep me informed. I have sources."

"Sources? Now you sound like Danny!" As they got onto the elevator, CJ stared at her friend. "He just wanted to apologize?"

"That's how it sounded."

"Do you think he's telling the truth?"

Sam took CJ's hands. "Yes, I think he is. This is over now. The guy is just as appalled at what his brother did as we are. He's a pillar of the community type. Family man, never got a parking ticket, worked for the same company with steady raises and promotions for the last 15 years." He shrugged. "He's an Elk."

CJ narrowed her eyes. "How do you know all that?"

Sam's expression changed from concern and reassurance to that of a small child caught doing something he absolutely knew would get him into trouble.

Not sure what to make of that, CJ came right out and asked. "What did you do?"

"Nothing."

"Sam!"

"I hired a private investigator to keep me up to date on this guy's activities. I didn't want to have to count on the Secret Service for details. It's not all togetherfor me to get this sort of information from them."

"Sam?"

"Yes?"

"You're a good friend."

Sam blushed, and they continued the ride in silence. CJ's thoughts were too jumbled to allow a conversation. 

Once they reached Josh's room, interrupting what sounded like a heated discussion between Josh and Toby 

**

Hours Later

The Four Seasons Hotel

Newport Beach, Orange County, CA

Donna's Hotel Room

Donna stared glumly at the floor, imagining it opening up and swallowing her whole. She was only doing her job! How did these things keep happening to her? She was so lost in thought she didn't hear the knock on the door. 

CJ Cregg stood outside Donna's hotel room wondering if she had only imagined seeing her go in 10 minutes ago.

"Hey Donna." CJ called through the door. "Donna?"

When Donna didn't answer, CJ tried the door. It opened, and she went inside. "Donna?" CJ put a hand on Donna's shoulder, and they both ended up jumping back in surprise.

"I'm sorry, CJ. I was a million miles away."

"I could tell." CJ took a seat. "What's wrong?"

"Did you hear what happened?"

"When?"

"Today. Josh sent me to meet with Ivan Perez."

"Oh, yeah. I heard about that."

"I feel awful. How much damage could this do to Sam's campaign?"

"Well, I guess it" She considered saying something flip and funny, but the look on Donna's face changed her mind. "It could do a lot of damage. Don't worry. We can spin it."

"What about what Sam did? Can that hurt him?"

CJ frowned drawing her chair closer to Donna's. "What did Sam do?"

"He fired that guy from his campaign!"

"Why?"

"The guy called me stupid, so Sam fired him. Toby was a little upset, but he didn't say a word. Will that be bad for him?"

CJ considered that. "I hadn't heard about it, which means the press doesn't have it yet. On the other hand, if this guy decides to go to the press"

Donna groaned.

  
"Donna, it's okay. Sam's going to be fine."

"We came here to help him win, and everything we've done could cost him the election!"

"You noticed that, too, did you?"  


"Why would he do that? He just fired the guy for calling me stupid."

"That's the way Sam is. He's very chivalrous. He doesn't like rude, stupid people."

"Then what's he doing in politics?"

CJ laughed, but Donna still looked miserable. She seemed inconsolable. "Donna, he'll be okay. I'm sure we can rebound from this." As she tried to cheer Donna, a crazy insane thought exploded inside her brain. The last time he'd done something like this had been for Ainsley Hayes. She remembered it distinctly. She called it Sam's Shining Armor Syndrome. She hadn't seen it in a long time, but here it was spilling all over Donnatella Moss, who was practically in tears over the damage she believed she'd caused. "Oh, my God, Donna! You and Sam"

  
Donna blushed beet red, and grabbed CJ's hands. "No! CJ! No! Don't you think like that! It's not true!"

CJ laughed. "It must be or you wouldn't be so upset and you wouldn't know what I meant before I said it!"

"CJ, please!"

The Press Secretary calmed herself. "You do realize it's most likely mutual."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not! You know, Donna, just because Josh never saw what was right in front of him doesn't mean that Sam's blind as a bat, too."

"I am not now nor have I ever been in love with Josh!"

  
"Okay."

"You don't believe me."

"Are you in love with Sam?"

Donna sat staring at CJ, but never answered the question.

**

****

The Next Day

Sam Seaborn for Congress Rally

Sam Seaborn stood backstage waiting to be introduced. He and Toby had fine-tuned his speech over and over again. Toby's talent was back with a vengeance, and the things he and Sam wrote together were perhaps the best things either of them had written in a long time. Of course, now that Toby's talent was back, they were back to arguing about verbs, adjectives, verbs, and punctuation. They has spent 20 minutes on the proper use of a semicolon before Toby had finally dropped it.

Sam noticed signs that read Orange County Department of Education Supports Sam Seaborn, and Orange County Teachers Support Seaborn for Congress as he took the stage to thunderous applause. It was heartening, but it made Sam wonder. If so many people seemed to support him, why was he still behind in the polls. Granted, his numbers were better than any Democrat in recent memory had any right to expect in this district, but he wanted to win. He was sure of it now, though it had taken him quite some time to realize it, let alone admit it.

It had been his father of all people who'd gotten him to open up about it just after the attack.

__

"Sam, you don't know how glad I am to see you're okay." Norman Seaborn wasn't ashamed of the tears he shed. He'd thought he'd lost his son. On the way to the hospital, Norman had been sure he'd never see his son again. When he walked in to find Sam not only alive, but also speaking to his mother and the Vice President of the United States, all thoughts of embarrassment had vanished. 

"I'm glad to see you, too, Dad." And Sam was surprised to realize that he meant it.

After a few moments, the Vice President stepped outside to give the Seaborn's a moment alone. As they spoke about how things were going for the President, Sam said something his father found startling.

"Toby's hired someone to cover my job, but when I get back to the office, I'm sure"

"Hang on a minute, Son. What do you mean, when you get back to the office'? Aren't you planning to win this?"

"Democrats don't win the California 47th."

"That's not like you." Olivia Seaborn was surprised to hear such talk from her idealistic and optimistic son.

"I'm being realistic."

"You're being pessimistic!" Norman shouted.

"I can't win."

"Do you want to?"

"What?"

"Do you want to win?"

Sam stopped then, thinking things he hadn't since he'd told Toby about this. He and Toby had decided he could win, when had he decided he wouldn't?"

"Yes."

"So, act like it. There's no shame in losing a fair fight, but there's no honor in not trying to win."

So Sam Seaborn was trying to win. Scott and Will hadn't worked out because one was trying to make him lose, and the other was sure that Wilde's win had been a fluke. Sam chuckled to himself. "An Aristotelian confluence of events..." He looked out at the audience waving their banners and signs, wearing buttons and badges all saying Sam Seaborn for Congress or some variation. He held up his hands to try to calm them so he could speak, but they just cheered louder. He smiled, nodded his head, and thanked them and raised his hands again. "Thank you!" He had to begin speaking, and hope they'd be interested enough to calm down.

"I've lived in Washington, D.C. a long time now, and I've got to tell youit's good to be home." The applause broke in again, and he smiled, taking a step back. Moving back to the microphone, he gazed up and the bright California sunshine and it raised his spirits. "I didn't realize how much I missed the sunshine. Washington has sunshine, but it's different. The heat can be stifling. The heat and humidity eventually followed by the snow, and iceWashington winters and summers can break both records and spirits. Now that I'm home, I realize how much a part of me this place is. I want to represent you. I want to take our California perspective and show people from D.C. what we've got that they haven't. You've all heard the President's Budget by now. You've all heard what he's trying to do to make college tuition affordable. Education is one of the most important issues we can face as a nation, but the tuition won't do us a lot of good without teachers." 

  
Sam was forced to wait for the applause to die down, and when it did, he launched into an explanation of his plan to fund better programs allowing for a well-rounded education, from new computers and better textbooks to music, art, and drama programs. He'd poured his heart into this speech, remembering all the conversations he'd had with Mallory about education, not to mention a certain trip on Air Force One that still got him thinking from time to time.

When he finished speaking, he glanced to the wings to see Toby smiling, nodding and 

leading the applause.

**

****

The Four Seasons Hotel

Newport Beach, Orange County, CA

"I hate to leave now. I'd love to be here for the election."  
  
"We'd love to have you, sir."

"I know, but, I gotta get back to running the country."

"It's always something, isn't it, sir."

Jed Bartlet smiled, liking the newfound ease with which Sam conducted himself. Maybe it was the California air. Maybe it was the sunshine. Hell, maybe it had always been there, but he'd been too thick headed to notice. It was the recent absence of Sam Seaborn that had shown him how much Sam Seaborn meant to him. He had once told Sam that he considered Sam, Josh, and Charlie his sons. He realized now how true that was. He wanted the best for Sam. He only hoped this visit would help. 

"I don't know how much good we did for you. It seems when we hit the road we turn into some Twilight Zone Circus Show. Whatever happens, I support this Sam. I will turn every statement I make into some sort of a statement of support for you."

"Thank you, sir, and for what it's worth, I'm glad you came."

Jed watched as Sam put out his hand expecting the President to shake it. Jed shook his head. "No, Sam, that's for the cameras outside." 

  
To Sam's surprise, the President stepped forward and engulfed the younger man in a firm, heartfelt embrace. "You're doing me proud, Sam."

"Thank you, sir!" Sam's surprise at the President's affection saddened Jed, but he knew it was his own fault for taking the man for granted.

The President pulled back. "Thank you, Sam." 

Sam watched as Jed Bartlet, surrounded by his entourage, left the room.

Donna Moss sidled up to him, staring after the President as well until Sam recognized her presence. 

"Donna?" He looked at her expectantly.

"We miss you, Sam. We all do. But, you should be proud. You're doing a good job."

Sam laughed in preparation for saying something self-deprecating, but Donna placed a finger over his lips. "Don't."

He looked at her quizzically.

"I'll tell you a secret."

He nodded for her to continue.

  
"You're going to win." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and followed the President's group.

Sam stared after her, not at all sure what had happened.

**

To Be Continued


	16. part 16

Non Sum Qualis Eram part 16

By Ecri

See Part One for Disclaimer and Spoilers.

Sam Seaborn Campaign Offices

Toby's Office

February 1

Toby stared at the second revision of Sam's next speech. He wanted to make notes in the margin to help him turn it into the third revision, but he couldn't concentrate. He glanced at the clock, did a quick calculation and picked up the phone. It was still early enough.

He counted the rings and got to four before he heard Andi's voice. "Hello?"

"Andi, it's me. I wanted to know how the thing went."

Andi smirked, but kept it out of her voice. "The Thing?"

"The thing. You know. The test."

"It went just fine, Toby. Your family is intact."

Toby sat in silence, slightly stunned by what she'd said. "That'sthe first time you've said that."

"I know."

"AndiI'm sorry I'm not there."

"You'll be here when it matters."

"I will."

"I know."

"Have you given any more thought to myquestion."

"Toby, I don't know if it's a good idea to marry someone I've already divorced."

"Maybe not." Toby smiled as he remembered what Sam had said about this. "But maybe it's a good idea to marry someone who loves you, and who you loved enough to make babies with."

"Do you really think we can live together again?"

"Do you really think it's not worth a try?"

Andi smiled, and though she thought about dismissing his question out of hand, she found herself uttering words of quite a different kind. "We'll talk about it when you get home, Toby."

**

****

The White House

February 1

Josh Lyman was not an idiot, though Toby Zeigler was fond of telling him he resembled one from time to time. It was in that spirit of idiocy, he realized, that he had set up this meeting. Checking his watch for the eighteenth time in two minutes, he grabbed his coat, and his backpack and told Donna he would be out, but was taking his cell and his beeper, and walked hurriedly out of the West Wing.

The cold February air brought tears to his eyes, and his hands sought his coat pockets as he hunched his shoulders and huddled deep within his coat. He called for a taxi and gratefully soaked up the relative warmth. "Lincoln Memorial." His gaze drifted out the window as he again contemplated how asinine he was being, but he had to do this.

By the time he finally reached his destination, he wasn't questioning the meeting so much as the location he had picked, but it was far to late for a change of venue.

He paid the cab driver and walked towards the memorial. He didn't look around or glance at his watch. His contact would have to find him.

It didn't take long before he heard a cocky voice call his name. He turned in the direction of the call. "Kevin Khan." He stepped forward. 

  
"What's with the clandestine act, Lyman?" Kevin's forced bravado didn't cover his trepidation.

"I wanted you to know I have evidence."

"Of what?"

"Of your conspiracy. You back off and leave Sam Seaborn alone. You tell Tom and Sarah Jordan and Scott Holcombe to leave Sam alone. You lost. You don't get a do over."

Kevin looked away then back again. Irritation and hatred at the mention of Sam replaced his uneasiness. "Assuming I have even the vaguest idea what you're talking about, what if Iwhat if _we_ don't?"

Josh kept his hands at his sides, careful to make no threatening gestures, but he took a step forward invading Kevin's personal space. "If you so much as send him a birthday card, pass him in a restaurant, or watch him on television, I will send my evidence to the Washington Post. I have friends there."

"What evidence?" Kevin tried to sound disdainful, but could barely manage irritation.

"Evidence of conspiracy. Evidence of the pay offs. Evidence of your attempt to sabotage Sam's campaign for Congress."

"You have no evidence." Kevin sneered.

Josh reached into his backpack and removed a large envelope. He handed it to Kevin. "These are just copies."

Reluctantly, Kevin opened the envelope and found memos, transcripts of taped conversations, and photographs. One pictured himself seated at a table in a bar in Orange County with Tom and Sarah Jordan and Scott Holcombe. Fury blazed in his eyes as he tore the photo and threw the pieces and the envelope at Josh.

Josh laughed. "Don't play with the big kids until you're sure you know what game they're playing. Remember those are copies. I have several sets sitting with several lawyers around the world. Stay away from Sam." Josh turned on his heel and walked away.

**

****

Election Night

Vice President's Home

Vice President John Hoynes stared hard at the TV. His wife entered the room and handed him a ginger ale. She laughed at his level of concentration. "I haven't seen you so engrossed by an election that didn't directly involve you since college!"

John nodded. "I know. What can I say? I like this kid."

"He's not a kid."

"He looks like a kid. Besides he's only 35."

"Almost 36."

"That's a kid, honey."

"John, why are you interested? It's a congressional race. Your next election will be for the Presidency."

"I still need to appoint a staff, a cabinet"

Her clear, sweet laughter echoed through the room drawing his attention solely to her. "He wouldn't be interested. If he's elected, he'd be too inexperienced. If he's not, he won't have any at all."

"It's not experience he can offer the ticket. It's charisma, idealism, youth, charm"

"The ticket? You're shopping for a Vice President."

John sat back in his seat, raising the ginger ale in mock salute to his wife's deduction. "I had to start sometime."

"Why him?"

John shrugged as he considered the question. "He's intelligent."

"So are you."

"He's experienced."

"So are you."

"He's passionate."

"So are you."

"He's idealistic."

"Sooh."

John smiled. "Sam Seaborn has only recently realized that he has the potential to be so much more than he is. If I can channel that into my next campaign" He pointed to the screen, which showed Sam shaking hands as he cast his own vote that morning. "then he and I are the next two Chiefs this country will be hailing."

**

****

Sam Seaborn Campaign Offices

Orange County 

"Will someone please tell me what the hell we're doing?" Toby's voice echoed through the room causing people to cringe, hide, roll their eyes, or, in the case of Sam Seaborn, laugh.

"Why are you laughing?" Toby took a few uncertain steps towards the younger man for whom he'd have walked through a desert if it would have gotten him just one more vote. Sam had never outright laughed at one of Toby's outbursts before.

"Will you relax? There's not much we can do now! Besides, there is absolutely nothing you can ask of my staff that they _won't_ do."

"They won't alphabetize my phone messages."

They both turned at the sound of Theresa snorting. 

"What was that?" Toby demanded.

"What?" 

"That _snort_!"

  
Theresa shrugged. "It wasn't a snort."

"What was it then?"

  
"An allergic reaction."

"What are you allergic to?"

"Stupidity."

Sam laughed outright.

Toby watched Sam laugh and didn't mind so much that it was at his expense. He glanced at Theresa and made an imaginary line in the air chalking one up for her. She smiled, and nodded her head in acknowledgement.

Sam finally got himself under control, and listened as Toby insisted they should have more people out doing exit polls. "Toby, the exit polls won't help. We'll know when we know."

"Why am I excited about this, and you'renot. I imagined this the other way around."  


"So did I."

"So what happened?"

"We fought the good fight. I'm satisfied."

"You don't care if you win?"

"I didn't say that."

**

****

Election Night

The White House

The Oval Office

President Bartlet skimmed the memo and waited for Admiral Fitzwallace to continue.

"It's really just a matter of vigilance, sir."

"Vigilance?" 

"We're as secure as we can be, sir, and there's no real indication that there's any immediate danger."

"Would there be?"

"Sir?"

"They're not going to broadcast their intentions, are they?"

"There's always chatter, sir."

"Reliable chatter?"

"Depends on the source, sir."

"Right. Well, that's all right then." He stood bringing Fitzwallace to his feet. "Thanks, Fitz." He walked towards the door with Fitzwallace. "Charlie?"

  
"Yes, sir?"

"How's Sam doing?"

"The returns are just beginning to come in. He's down by 15%."

Bartlet's face fell. "That much?"

"Yes, sir."

"Keep me posted. What's next?"

**

Election Night 

The White House

Communications Bullpen

"What did I miss?" Josh Lyman skidded to a stop in front of Ginger's desk, eyes riveted to the TV.

"He's falling behind. Last tally was 16%, but that's only with 30% of the votes in."

Donna came running up before Josh could reply. "Josh, Leo was looking for you."

"Okay." Josh mumbled not paying attention to her.  


"Josh, you're not listening."

"That's not surprising. He's not good at it." Leo's voice rose to penetrate the natural cacophony of the bullpen.

"Leo. Can we meet later about thething? I want to see how Sam's doing."

"Josh, the polls aren't even closed yet. We have a little time. Now let's go."

Reluctantly, Josh followed Leo while watching the TV screen over his shoulder.

**

****

Seaborn for Congress Campaign Offices

"Okay, people, the polls are officially closed. This is where things pick up." Toby knew they all knew that, but the energy in the room had plummeted with the last returns. Sam Seaborn was trailing.

Sam tried not to appear despondent, but that was how he felt. He knew all along he wouldn't win, but he didn't think he'd be humiliated. He stared at the TV listening to the talking heads babble about the numbers and the long shot Sam Seaborn was. 

Toby sat next to him. "What happened to we fought the good fight'?"

"We did. It's justToby was I that bad?"

"What?"

"Look at those numbers! Does no one in Orange County share my views?"

"It doesn't look like it."

Sam scowled.

"What should I say?" Toby hated seeing Sam like this. "It's early to be giving up, Sam. The polls just closed. They barely have 40% of the vote counted."

"I'd have to have done really well in order to win."

"It's not over until"

"The fat lady sings?"

"'Til it's over. Sam, don't."

"Don't what?"

Before Toby could reply, they heard a shout. "Hey! Did you see that?"

Sam and Toby looked up to see Angela pointing to the screen, but the noise from the rest of the staff prevented Sam and Toby from hearing what was going on. 

Toby stared at the screen, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You're not gonna believe this. You're closing the gap!"

Incredulous, Sam looked to the TV for confirmation. Sure enough, the incumbent's lead was shrinking.

**

****

The White House

Communications Bullpen

Donna stared up at the TV. The numbers were coming in slower than usual, she was sure of it. Bonnie, standing beside her, shared her thoughts. "Should it take this long when there's only one race in one county?"

Ginger nodded in agreement. "You would think that, wouldn't you?"

Donna's eyes hadn't left the screen. "How many have they counted?"

"They said 45%, but the race is too close to call."

"What are you all doing standing around like that?" Josh's demand might have been less irritating if he hadn't actually known what they were doing.

"I thought you were with Leo." Donna's kept her eyes on the screen. 

"I was, but that was 20 minutes ago. Have you been here all this time?" He got no response. "Okay, fine. Be that way."

"Be what way?" CJ came up behind Josh. She looked up at the screen. "Can't they count quicker?" 

**

****

Sam Seaborn's Campaign Offices

"Toby?" Sam's voice was quiet and there was a note of both trepidation and anticipation in it.

"Yeah?"

"It's picking up."

Toby nodded. "It looks like it is."

"How can that be?"

"You ran a good campaign."

"Does that matter?"

"What?"

"Never mind." Sam stared at the screen for a few more seconds, while Toby waited for him to pick up on that thought. "Onlyyeah, see, everyone said I couldn't win."

"You haven't won, yet. You're just gaining on the incumbent."

"Right. You're right. There's still time."

"You're confusing me, Sam."

"That's not hard."

Toby ignored the remark knowing Sam was probably not even aware that he'd said it. He was running on automatic. "Sam, you sound as if you expect to lose."

"Do I?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. I want to win. I just didn't expect"

A roar from around the room interrupted him, snapping his attention back to the television. He'd just gained another four points. It was a tie.

He turned troubled, scared eyes on his campaign manager, and as Toby watched, the dismay slowly melted away. Sam grinned.

Toby grinned back.

**

****

The White House

The Residence

1:30 AM EST

Abbey Bartlet knew the entire West Wing would be watching the election results, but she was glad her husband had opted to watch them with her in the Residence. She sat next to him her head resting on his shoulder as he shouted at the television critiquing the commentators.   
  
"What a pompousdid you hear what he said?"

"Yes, I did."

"How can he say Sam should concede? They're tied for crying out loud!"

"He thinks Sam is going to lose."

"Well the numbers don't bear him out!"

"Jed, if you don't calm down," Abbey spoke in her doctor voice, "I won't let you watch the rest."

"Oh, but you'll have to, my dear. My anxiety will just increase exponentially until I know if he won."

"You have a point."

"Here we are! Finally more numbers!" Jed watching election returns was like most men watching football. He waited a moment, anticipation getting the best of him, then, when the numbers were posted, he shot to his feet as if he'd just witnessed the game-winning goal in the Superbowl. "Do you see that? He's ahead! He's actually in the lead!"

"He is." Abbey agreed, enjoying the spectacle of her husband in his element.

**

****

The White House

Communications Bullpen

1:45 AM

A deafening roar reverberated through the White House as the gathered crowd read the numbers on the screen. Hearing the commentary would be absolutely impossible.

CJ found herself standing next to Leo. "He's doing it!" 

"He should be damn proud of himself." Leo hoped the kid was at least that no matter how this election ended. 

Josh came dancing by, and CJ's arm snaked out to smack him. 

"Hey!"

"I told you once before, Joshua, not to do that dance in front of me!" CJ was still grinning. "You should call Sam!"

"Not until it's final."

Donna called to him from a few feet away. "It's about to be. They're gonna declare a winner."

A hush fell across the room as they waited.

**

****

Seaborn for Congress Campaign Offices

Orange County, CA

Angela stood on a chair hushing everyone in the room. "They're going to declare a winner. Shut up! I don't want to miss this."

Sam glanced around the room at the staff and volunteers who had dedicated a large chunk of their lives to him. It amazed him. He cleared his throat, and spoke loud enough for all to hear him. "However this turns out, I owe you all a big thank you."

The spontaneous applause ended almost as quickly as it started when everyone realized the commentators were again talking numbers.

Olivia and Norman Seaborn approached their son, who was surprised to see them voluntarily standing so close to each other. He hadn't seen them do that since he got out of the hospital. 

"I'm so proud of you, Sam." His mother hugged him.

"Me, too, son. You've accomplished a lot."

"Thank you. Both of you."

He didn't have to say more.

Toby cleared his throat to get Sam's attention. When he had it, he gestured to the screen. 

Sam grinned, a twinkle in his eye. 

**

Josh hit the speed dial, shouting for quiet as he waited for the call to go through. When that didn't work he turned pleading eyes on Donna. Donna sighed, took a deep breath, and shouted. The noise level dropped immediately and all attention was on Josh. After a moment, he heard someone pick up the phone.

"Congressman Seaborn's Office!" Screamed the exuberant voice of Toby Zeigler.

"Toby! Put Sam on!"

"No problem. I just wanted to be the first to say that."

"Yeah, I guess so. Three campaigns in a row! That's a Political Hat Trick!"

"It is. I think I've gotten used to this. Hang on, here's Sam."

Josh heard some muffled words, and some party noises, including the popping open of champagne bottles. Then Sam was there. "Josh! Were you watching? Did you hear it?"

"Was I watching? We're having a party here! The entire office is Sam! Congratulations! You're a Congressman!"

Sam's laughter was contagious and Josh found himself joining in. "Do you know what?"

"No, what, Sam?"

"I never though this far ahead. I need an office. I need two! One here and one there! I need staff! I needyou knowstationery!"

It was so like Sam to turn to the practical so quickly. "Don't you worry about that, Sam. We'll help you get set up! Enjoy the night! Celebrate! Don't get too drunk. You're a Congressman now!"

"I promise" Josh heard Sam talk to someone else. Then, Sam, still flushed with excitement, came back. "Josh, I gotta go! Webb's on the other line."

"You go and take that call, buddy. I hope it's the first of many concessions!"

**

"That was easier than I thought. He was down right gracious."

"That's because the press is there." Toby's whisper carried to Sam alone, as he motioned to the press who crowded the room interviewing the staff and giving reports to their TV audiences.

In a moment, Theresa ran over to the pair. "Sam, it's the President on line one." She sounded a bit incredulous that she'd spoken to him herself.

"Thanks." He turned to Toby. "Come with me. I have to give you back now."

**

****

February 10

The White House

Toby Zeigler stood outside the White House never having felt more proud, and yet more reluctant, to enter. They'd done a good job. He'd done what he set out to do. Sam Seaborn was a Congressman. He'd won his election by a narrow margin, but he had won. Toby should be elated. Josh had called it a political hat trick, and it was almost unthinkable to him that he'd somehow been a part of so successful a campaign. He should be returning a hero, yet, all he could think of was that once he walked through that door, Sam wouldn't work for him anymore. 

He remembered the first time they'd met. Josh had brought some kid with him to New Hampshire, and Leo had made him a speechwriter. Toby had been incensed. He didn't have time to teach the kid how to write speeches for a Presidential candidate. At first, they hadn't gotten along well, but it hadn't taken long for Toby to realize he actually liked Sam Seaborn. Sam, for his part, had seemed determined to do his job well. He did it well enough to help Josiah Bartlet become President.

He remembered Sam smiling and laughing when Josh said or did something particularly stupid. He recalled how adamant Sam had become about some of his pet issues being included front and center in some of their speeches. He remembered the first time he'd seen Sam angry. He'd slammed some poor schmuck up against a wall, fire in his eyes, when a volunteer had started a rumor about Donna. Toby was never clear what exactly the rumor was, and he'd been afraid to ask after he saw Sam's reaction.

He remembered Sam's response to the President's disease, hard on the heels of his own father's confession, and of course, the GDC speech drop in. He remembered his own fear when he'd learned of the Kevin Khan tape debacle. He'd watched Sam carefully for weeks wondering if his Deputy would recover.

He remembered with a pang of regret, the look of pleased surprise on Sam's face when he received a compliment. He knew he'd been a little slow to offer praise, but was he so stingy with kind words that hearing them was a source of astonishment?

He glanced to his right and found Sam was staring at him. "You ready, Toby?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"Maybe. This is going to be weird."

"My thoughts exactly."

"I don't work for you anymore."

"That had occurred to me."

Sam had thought he'd be sad to have to leave the White House no matter what the circumstances. He'd assumed he'd be overwhelmed with thoughts of endings. Instead, he was happier than he'd been in a long time. He was a congressman. He had spent the last week drawing up an agenda, making phone calls and contacts, setting up an office on each coast, and writing thank-you cards.

In all that time, he'd half-dreaded this moment. Awkward wouldn't begin to describe it. He was going to walk into the White House as a guest. He didn't have an office there anymore. Toby wasn't his boss. Josh and CJ weren't his coworkers. 

Donnahe stopped himself whenever he thought of Donna. He'd told his mother over Christmas that he'd been thinking of Lisa. When he'd been dating Mallory, he'd often pictured himself with a blonde, and he'd assumed it was Ainsley. It wasn't until weeks had passed and the daydreams had become more detailed that he'd realized the blonde in his thoughts wasn't Lisa or Ainsley. It was Donna. 

How and when he'd developed feelings for her, he couldn't say. He only knew that it had taken all his resolve not to ask Josh about her every time they spoke. He only knew that when she'd given him a small kiss on the cheek when she was leaving California, that moment had stayed with him. 

Sam took a deep breath shaking off thoughts of Donna. He'd have to deal with that later. "Come on, Toby. If we don't go in now, we'll be late."

**

****

February 10

The White House

President Josiah Bartlet went through the day with a happy, yet impatient, anticipation. After each meeting, he would look expectantly at Charlie, who would simply shake his head and tell him which appointment was next. Bartlet had begun to glare at Charlie.

Now, he could tell it was time. His meeting over, he glanced at Charlie. This time, he smiled and nodded, holding open the door to the Oval Office. When Abbey, Leo, CJ, Josh, Donna, Margaret, Bonnie, and Ginger walked in, Bartlet wasn't at all surprised. "Somehow, I knew I'd have a full house on this one." He gestured around the room. "Just give the photographer and Sam a place to stand, and you can all stay."

A moment later, the Vice President arrived. "Mr. President, I hope you don't mind if I join you."

"Not at all, John. I'd be disappointed if you didn't."

They stood expectantly for a moment, then Bartlet looked at Charlie. "Well?"

"I was told he was here, sir. I'll check."

Charlie returned to his desk and picked up the phone, but before he could dial, Sam and Toby stood by his desk. Charlie grinned and held out his hand. "Welcome back and congratulations!"

"Thanks, Charlie."

"I meant Toby." Charlie laughed and shook Sam's hand. "Really, congratulations." He gestured to the Oval Office. "They're waiting for you. Toby, go on in. Sam, he asked me to announce you."

Sam nodded, assuming this was part of the ceremony. 

Charlie entered the Oval. "Mr. President, Sam Seaborn is here."

"Show him in."

Charlie gestured for Sam to enter. As he did, the room erupted with applause. Sam stared at his friends, and, as the applause continued well past the point of politeness, he blushed and began begging them to stop.

Bartlet stepped forward still applauding, and, when he reached Sam, he embraced the young man. The applause died down as the President spoke. "Congratulations, Sam. You made us proud. So very proud."

"Thank you, Mr. President." Sam was amazed he'd gotten that much past the lump in his throat. 

Abbey stepped forward then, kissing him on the cheek, and as if it had been a cue, everyone else came forward offering congratulations, back slaps, hugs, and kisses. Sam was overwhelmed with the attention.

"Okay, let the man breathe!" Bartlet demanded. They stepped back, leaving the President and Sam alone in the center of the room. "The California 47th! Good job, Sam."

Sam nodded. "Thank you, sir, but I couldn't have done it without all of you, especially Toby." He turned to Toby, who cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"This is your moment, Sam." The Communications Director was enjoying this without the need to be the center of attention.

Bartlet nodded. "Yeah, there's a thing we gotta do." He gestured for the photographer to take her place. "Go on, Mary." He winked. "Take a good one!" 

"Yes, sir!"

They took the formal portrait, and then Bartlet surprised Sam by not letting him leave. "Hang on a second. There are a lot of people here who want a photo." In moments, everyone in the room had positioned themselves around the two men, and the photographer continued snapping. When she'd finished and the President dismissed her, he ordered the woman to develop them immediately.

Bartlet turned to Sam. "I'd love to chat, but I have some work to do, so I'll just say again how very proud you made me. Don't be a stranger, and good luck, Sam."

"Thank you, Mr. President." Sam shook the President's hand and left the Oval followed by most of the group that had gathered to greet him.

Jed watched him leave, turning to Abbey. "There he goes."

"He did good, Jed." She looked up at him and kissed his cheek. "So did you."

**

****

February 11

Donna Moss' Apartment

It was late, it was raining, and Donna wondered what else could happen to make this day worse. As she got closer to her apartment, she saw a man lurking there. She drew closer and closer, until she finally halted in her tracks. "Sam? What are you doing here?"

Sam whirled around, startled by what he saw as her sudden appearance. "Donna! Hi!"

"Hi. What are you doing here? Are you waiting for me? Did something happen?"

"I wanted to talk to you. I didn't get a chance at the White House."

"Sam! Where's your umbrella? You're soaking wet!"

"I know. I forgot it. It barely rained in California."   
  
Donna steered Sam towards her door and pulled out her keys. She opened the door, pulled him inside and led him up to her apartment. Once inside, she insisted he borrow a towel and a bathrobe as she hurriedly brewed a pot of coffee.

Sam emerged from her bedroom dressed in her pink terrycloth robe and running a towel through his hair. 

She laughed as he held up his arms so she could get a good look. "Pink's your color."

"Very funny."

"Sit down. The coffee will be ready in a minute. Now you can tell me why you were standing in the rain outside my apartment."

Sam considered stalling, but he couldn't. He'd waited long enough, and he was sure the stalling and waiting was what had killed his previous relationships. "Donna, you have no idea how good it is to see you."

Her smile was dazzling. "I missed you too, Sam."

"While I was away, I realized something. I realized how much I'd outgrown my job at the White House. I realized how much I loved being able to talk about the issues that mean so much to me. I realized how much I like finding answers to serious questions and workable solutions to serious problems." He paused and took a chance. He reached across the table and took her hand. 

Donna's heart skipped a beat. She looked into his eyes and she knew what he would say.

"Donna, I realized how very much I missed you. I kept thinking about eventslike Christmas, my possible photo op with the President as a new Congressman, my future here in D.C. and in California as a Congressman and wherever that leadsand when I imagined these things, I always imagined you by my side."

__

Say something intelligent. Say something witty. Donna's thoughts raced, but she could think of nothing. Almost nothing. "Oh, Sam."

"Donna, this isn't the way most relationships start. I should be asking you to lunch, or taking you out to see a movie. Somehow, normal eludes me. I guess I'm just going to tell you that I am interested in seeing you socially. If you feel at all the same way"

"I do! Oh, Sam! I missed you! I meanI'm interested in seeing you, too!"

"Great! How about at the State Dinner on Friday?"

"Theat the White House?"

"Sure. I've been invited, and I can take a guest, though I assumed you'd be going, too."

"I wasI am. Are you sure?"

"Of course I am." He reached into the pocket of her robe. "I didn't imagine I'd be dressed like this when I spoke to you about it, but you know what they say about the best laid plans" He laid a box on the table. "That's for you. I'd love to see you wear this on Friday."

Donna's hand shook slightly as she reached for the box. She recognized the name from a fancy jeweler's in Orange County. Slowly, she drew up the lid gasping at what was revealed. "Sam! It's beautiful!" Her hands fumbled with the clasp, so he reached out and slipped the bracelet onto her wrist and secured it. 

He admired it for a moment, and then stood and swept her from her seat into an embrace. "Thank you, Donna. You won't regret this." Sam was happier than he had been when he'd won the election.

"I know." Her eyes fell on the world outside her window and she realized it wasn't raining anymore.

**

****

February 14

The White House  
State Dinner

9:30 PM

Abbey Bartlet watched the dance floor. Several couples were taking advantage of the beautiful music the band was playing, but none had caught her eye so completely as Sam Seaborn and Donna Moss. When the pair had entered the room arm in arm, it had apparently created quite a spectacle. CJ had told her the two had turned literally every head in the room.

Abbey didn't doubt it. They were a lovely couple. Their eyes were locked on each other, their hands intertwined, and their steps were almost mesmerizing in their grace. The fact that Sam Seaborn seemed born to wear a tuxedo didn't hurt either. His arm was wrapped lightly around Donna's waist as he led her around the floor. Her pale blue gown gave her an ethereal look that was emphasized by the joy she exuded. Donna and Sam were happier than Abbey could remember ever seeing them.

She glanced at her husband, who stood beside her. "Did you know they were dating?"

He smiled in a smug way.

"I know that look! What do you know that I don't? And don't give me any lip! Just answer the question!"

Jed patted his wife's hand where it rested on his arm. "According to the scuttlebutt, this is their first date."

"On Valentine's Day?"

"CJ told Margaret, who told Leo"

"Leo gets gossip from Margaret?"

"Whether he wants it or not. Anyway, Leo said that Donna had a thing for Sam, but no one knew how Sam felt."

Abbey turned back to the couple taking in their body language as well as the twinkle in Sam's eye and the bounce to Donna's step. "I don't think we can say that anymore."

**

Once the dance was over, Sam led Donna to the bar. He ordered them each a drink, and, while they waited, he thanked her.

"For what?"

"For agreeing to come here with me tonight."

She shook her head. "That was easy."

"It wasn't so easy to ask."

"It wasn't?"

"No." He took her hand. "I don't know when I realized that I had feelings for you Donna, but I do know that I've never felt quite this way before in my life."

"What does that mean?" Donna was nervous and afraid of misreading the situation. She knew how she felt even if she hadn't answered CJ's question that night in the hotel in California. What she didn't know was what was going on in Sam's mind. What if she assumed too many things? What if she allowed herself to fall hard only to discover that he considered her a friend? Sam hadn't answered, so she repeated her question. "Really, Sam. What does that mean?"

The bartender arrived with their drinks, and Sam waited until he'd gone using the precious moments to piece together what he didn't seem to be getting across to her.

"It means there are things in life worth pursuing and this is one of them. Donna, I've always considered you a friend, and I think that's where I went wrong."  


She crinkled her brow trying to work out if she'd just been insulted. "So, we're not friends?"

"We are! We are friends. See, I knew I'd mess this up! When I said that's where I went wrong, I meant that's because I never loved a friend before. I never allowed myself to fall in love with a friend. I always became friends with someone I fell in love with. I've been doing it backwards."

"Then most people do it backwards."

"That's why the divorce rate is so high." Sam realized the conversation was degenerating, and that it was largely due to his rambling without saying what he wanted to say. "Donna, I'd like to pursue this with you. I'd like to build on this. Our friendship means the world to me, butAristotle said that a true friend is one soul in two bodies. Most people say that about love."

Donna smiled. "Friendship is Love without his wings."

Sam's eyes twinkled, a hesitant smile forming as he recognized her words. "Lord Byron."

"Yeah."

"So, what are you saying?"

"Let's try to find those wings."

**

The night wore on, and Sam and Donna couldn't stay side by side all evening no matter how much they would have liked that. Sam was a new Congressman, and there were people he needed to greet. Donna was Josh's assistant, and that role demanded a slew of things. 

Sam was soon in a deep conversation with several other Congressmen. His gaze drifted around the room even as his ears continued to track the words of the other men. He lost track momentarily of what was being said when he saw Donna deep in conversation with Margaret, CJ, and The First Lady. From the faint pink color in Donna's cheeks and the way the women kept looking in his direction, Sam guessed what they were talking about. Donna saw him looking at her, so she raised her hand and waved at him, the bracelet he'd given her catching the light and only emphasizing her own beauty in his eyes.

CJ looked over and caught his eye, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. She disengaged from the others, and headed in Sam's direction. Sam waited until she was nearly there, and disengaged herself from the politicians with whom he stood. 

"CJ, do I even want to know what's going on over there."

"Intelligence gathering."

"Rumor mongering?"

"Try that again, Sunshine."

"Interrogation? Spanish Inquisition?"

"I don't know what you mean!"

"What she telling you?"

CJ's face softened. "I owe you, Spanky, so I'm going to be nice."  


"You don't owe me anything."

"Feeble, Sam. You know I do."

"See, here we go with the _I Dream of Jeannie_, coconut oil and hot towels."

CJ reached over and smacked Sam in the head.

"What was that for?"

"For being an idiot. There's no coconut oil and no hot towels, and if you think for a minute that I'm gonna dress up in a pink harem outfit and a veil"

"Thanks for the visual."

She stared at him for a moment, then smiled. "You know something? You're the sweetest man I've ever known, but you are still sometime completely clueless."

"Didn't you say you were going to be nice?"

"Donna loves you."

"You keep changing topics like that, and I may need a neck brace."

"She does. She's at the very least enamored, but I think she's in love."

  
Sam didn't know what to say, so he just glanced over at Donna, who was still speaking to Margaret. The First Lady stood a few feet away on her husband's arm.

"I spoke to Josh." CJ added. When Sam gave her only a blank stare, she explained. "He told me what you said. That Non Sum Qualis Eram' thing."

"He did?"

"Yeah. I know why you said it, and I can see that there have been some changes. You're certainly more confident then you used to be, but Sam," she paused and lightly touched his arm. "In all the ways that matter, you're the same man you always were. You got a little sidetracked now and then. You lost your focus on occasion, but in the end, you, Sam Seaborn, are, and always will be, a gentleman. That makes you a rare breed, Spanky." She gave him a light peck on the cheek. "Congratulations, Sam."

"Thanks, CJ." Sam let CJ wander back across the room. He checked again to see where Donna was, and saw her hovering near Josh who occasionally whispered instructions to her. Somehow, Donna was committing them to memory, since she wasn't writing anything down. The President and Dr. Bartlet were deep in conversation with Leo, the three of them laughing like only old friends could. Toby stood with Andi by the bar and the two of them seemed to be discussing something important.

These were the most important people in his day to day life, and he hadn't seen most of them in three months. He realized his day to day life was about to change yet again. 

He'd come a long way in the time he'd known them. Josh especially. The years since they'd first taken The White House had been so busy it was no wonder their friendship had suffered. Josh was trying to make amends, and truthfully, so was Sam. He and Josh had been best friends for so long, it had given Sam the first notion of what it would be like to have a brother. He realized that when he and Josh had grown apart, he'd transferred a lot of those brotherly feelings to Toby. Truthfully, he couldn't imagine what he would have done without Toby. He'd been a mentor, a teacher, and, where Sam's campaign was concerned, he had been a savior.

He still couldn't believe he had just been elected to Congress. No matter how many times he thought it, or how many people addressed him as Congressman, it seemed like a dream. It was, of course. A dream he'd never admitted he'd dreamed had just come true.

Donna came up next to him then, and he turned to look at her, hoping that at least one more dream he'd never dreamed would come true.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asked. She'd smiled more tonight than at any of the other White House events they'd attended.

"I am, Congressman, thanks for asking."

"You can stop calling me that."

"Not until you'reyou knowsomething else."

He gave her a puzzled look, so she explained. "You knowSenator, GovernorPresident."

"Not you, too!"

"I don't know what you mean."

"I saw you talking to Dr. Bartlet. Did she tell you the President thinks I'll run for President one day?"

"No. Sam, I've known that since we met."

He laughed then, and when she joined in, he put his arms around her waist, lifted her, and swung her around in a tight circle.

"Sam!" She laughed as she spoke, making it hard to breathe. "Put me down!"

Reluctantly, he did as she asked. The idea of scooping her up and carrying her away crossed his mind, but a glance around the room at all the people still in attendance and the reporters snapping pictures of the two of them–undoubtedly pictures in mid-twirl–made him think better of it. "Where's Toby?"

Surprised by the change in topic, she gestured towards the back of the room, where Toby and Andi were chatting with Leo and CJ.

Sam nodded, grabbed her hand, and headed towards the group. Leo saw them coming. "Well, Congressman Seaborn, it's a pleasure to have a friendly face representing the California 47th."

"Thank you, Leo! It's a pleasure to beexactly where I am."

"That I believe!" Andi whispered to Toby, her eyes focusing on his hand, which still clasped Donna's.

"Me, too!" Toby whispered, taking Andi's hand in his own. The action caused Sam to notice a sparkle from that direction. She looked at the ring on Andi's finger, then from Andi to Toby and back again, unsure if he should say anything.

Andi laughed. "Yes, Sam. I finally said yes, and it's all your fault!"

"My fault?"

"She missed me, Sam! While I was away helping you win a seat in Congress, Andi missed me! When I got back, I asked her again, and" He raised Andi's hand, a smile of pure joy escaping. "She said yes!" He started to laugh and everyone joined in.

"Congratulations! When's the big day?"

"That's still up for debate, but she'll get her way." Toby's admission seemed to surprise Andi.

After several moments, Sam, still holding Donna's hand, headed back in the direction of Toby's office. Donna's pass, and Sam's position as Congressman allowed them through security. Once in Toby's office, he shut the door and the blinds and turned his full attention on Donna. He embraced her, and, as she opened her mouth to ask what was going on, he kissed her. After a moment, she returned the kiss.

When they pulled away desperate for air, she looked up into his eyes. "Wow." Her voice was a whisper, but her heart raced.

He smiled and she saw real joy in his eyes, knowing he saw the same in hers.


End file.
